The Worst Student at Winterhold
by Mr. Teatime
Summary: Two students from the College of Winterhold stumble upon a strange Khajiit who may just be the most important person in Skyrim. Completed! Features 2 OCs, Brelyna Maryon, J'zargo, and the rest of the College of Winterhold personalities.
1. Cooking the Books

Part I: Cooking the Books

Somehow, the cheese was the worst. No matter how many corpses you piled up, how long you've let them rot, how virulent the rats and skeevers are that have dug into them for food and shelter, a bunch of rotten cheese smells the worst.

As a Bosmer, Nedhelfin had never gotten much of a taste for cheese, or any dairy or cream-based product for that matter. They were carnivores through and through, and he could sooner envision taking a bite out of a skeever tail than choking down some moldy Border Watch Blue. He placed a hand over his face, covering his mouth and nose, in an attempt to staunch the unyielding flow of stench.

"Are you okay?" Brelyna asked, looking at him with fondness and genuine concern. "There are a lot of corpses, I'll understand if you need to step outside."

"Hm?" Ned said, looking around and snapping out of his cheesy daze. "Oh, yes. Corpses. How do necromancers do it? I feel like I need to take a shower just being in the same room as a dead body, and they practically roll around in them."

"I don't think they quite go that far," the Dunmer responded, nudging a body aside with her toe so that she could better walk around it. Ned followed after her, his breathing somewhat steady again.

"No, I'm quite sure of it," he went on. "They probably throw a bunch of corpses into a big pit, strip down to their skivvies, and dive into it like a lake in summertime. They probably consider it therapeutic."

Brelyna chuckled. She seemed to be entirely unfazed by their surroundings - Dunmer were like that, Ned mused. Totally at home with the macabre. The deep blue tint of their skin wasn't the only reason they were known colloquially as 'Dark Elves.' As much as he hated to admit it, he was much less suited for this kind of thing. His Inner Stereotype was yearning for a tree to climb, but instead he was in a series of dungeons underneath a decaying fortress filled with people who considered death a speed bump on the road to a good time. Ancient jail cells were littered with corpses, ranging from kinda-sorta-recent to extremely-decomposed. Some were trapped within inhumanely small cages suspended from the ceiling.

If anyone finds us down here, that'll probably be us, Ned thought with a sigh. Dangling five feet off the ground and begging for a scrap of rotten cheese for the rest of a relatively short life. He was in the middle of wondering what being a reanimated corpse would be like, when he felt himself thrown backwards into a wall, and saw Brelyna's face very close to his own.

"Uhm," he said awkwardly, glancing around for any sign of what had just happened. "Hi?"

"Er," Brelyna stuttered, seemingly just as flustered as he was, but then she looked away, inclining her head downwards towards a slightly elevated circle on the floor, that Ned had just been about to step on.

"Oh," Ned said, as Brelyna released him. "Right. Good eye." He gingerly stepped around it, Brelyna following close behind. Now suddenly much more aware of his surroundings, and feeling a bit awkward and foolish, Ned kept his thoughts as corralled as he possibly could, maintaining a stark awareness of his surroundings. Horrible bloody torture implements on a table over there. Disgusting spider webs on a bookshelf over there. Ooh, look, another pile of bones. Been a whole ten steps since the last one.

Now something else was furiously vying for the attention of his brain, and he slowly became aware of a sound up ahead. The scuffling of feet, and muttering of a voice. The hallway they were in was curved slightly, so he was unable to see who was up there, but he slowed his pace even further, and turned back to make sure Brelyna was on the same page. She nodded, her face grim, and motioned for him to lead the way. Ned sighed.

Creeping forward, painfully aware of how every one of his footsteps sounded like the building was falling down around them, he strained his ears for an indication of what the voice was saying. It sounded frantic, bordering on unhinged.

"...Drastically behind schedule, running out of bodies, the Caller demands more, but yours will both do nicely, will need many more, but two is a start, will let the dogs have you first, make do with the remains..."

Ned looked back, locking eyes with Brelyna. Two prisoners, possibly in imminent danger. Brelyna began to mouth the words, "don't do anything stupid," but Ned cut her off by doing something incredibly stupid: he held charged forward around the corner, frost coalescing inside his right hand to form an icey spear, and yelled, "freeze!"

The man in the middle of the next room looked at him, blinking in confusion a few times. "Excuse me?"

"Uh...f-freeze," Ned said again, his momentum somewhat faltering. "As in, 'stop right there, criminal scum,' but also because I'm using frost magic. See?"

The man, wearing the typical pure black robes of a rogue mage, appeared to be thinking this over for a moment, then offered a retort by way of raising his hand and shooting a volley of lightning into Ned's chest. The elf toppled backwards, tripped over something that made a 'ka-thunk' noise and gave way beneath him, and collapsed onto the ground, feet flung up into the air.

He heard low-pitched growling and the sound of gnashing teeth, and his frazzled brain began to put the pieces together: he had just tripped over the release switch to one of the jail cells, apparently the one holding the ravenous murder dogs. Figured, really.

Next he felt a sudden burst of heat wash over him, and saw a flame atronoch bloom into existence and glide gracefully across the floor away from him. This alleviated his hopelessness somewhat; conjuration was Brelyna's best subject, and the pitiful sound of yelps indicated that the atronoch was successfully dispatching the dogs. Finally regaining sensation in his extremities, Ned stood up, albeit wobblingly.

"That was your plan?" Brelyna said, rushing to his side and helping him regain balance.

"Not 'plan,' so much. More, 'thing I decided to do on the spur of the moment.'" He looked at her exasperated expression and added, "I knew you'd have my back."

"And your front, too, apparently," she said with a sigh. "Why don't you free the other prisoners - the ones who aren't bloodthirsty wolves, if that's okay with you - and I'll tango with this guy?"

Ned let off a sharp, mocking salute, and said, "yes, sir!" before rushing over to the rest of the release switches.

He heard more sounds of battle behind him - the sizzle of lightning arcing across the room, the whoosh of a fireball streaking towards its target. He decided to assume Brelyna had things under control, and yanked on the first lever, which caused one of the grates to open up and reveal the sharply dressed Altmer that Ned had been told to expect. He came rushing over and embraced the Bosmer in a warm hug, clearly relieved to still be alive.

"Okay, okay," Ned said, prying himself free. "You're Orthorn, right? The big stupid moron whose fault it is that we're here in Hellmurder Castle in the first place?"

"You must be from the College," Orthorn said, beginning to perspire a bit, but clearly trying to keep his cool. "Thank you so much for saving my life, clearly I am forever in your debts, and your forgiveness is something I will always treasure-"

"Bup bup bup bup bup, let me cut you off right there," Ned said, holding up a hand. "We're here for the books you stole. Saving your sorry ass is what we call a tertiary objective. So really, it's not too late for you to have an unfortunate accident."

Sometimes, the narrative forces of the universe align with perfect dramatic timing. Just as Ned finished saying this, there was a horrible scream, and the sound of a very recently deceased man collapsing to the ground. Brelyna walked over, a bit charred but no worse for wear, and took her place beside Ned.

Orthorn looked between the two of them, clearly horrified, and held up his hands. "Okay! Okay! I screwed up. I did. I'm sorry I stole from the college. I regret it. Clearly that career choice has not worked out for me, okay, or else you'd find me in the Caller's chambers and not in a jail cell next to some freak!"

This reminded Ned that there was, apparently, a second prisoner. Which was odd - he had been told Orthorn would be here but he had received no warning about a second person who'd have caught the ire of the necromancers. Perhaps simply an unfortunate traveler?

Ned clapped Orthorn on the shoulder in an amicable way, and said to Brelyna, "if he tries to make a run for it, immolate him, okay?"

"You don't have to tell me twice," Brelyna said with a grin. Orthorn went from pale to paler.

Ned walked over to the next cell, where a Khajiit was sitting bow-legged on the floor, arms folded politely in his lap. He was wearing a very plain and tattered brown robe. He had long silver hair that draped down past his shoulders, and an impressive silver mustache to accompany it. Ned self-consciously ran a hand through his greasy, tattered head of hair and regretted the miserable patch of fuzz around his chin that he called a beard. There was something very stylish about this man that seemed to accentuate everything mediocre about Ned.

"Uh, hey," he said, a bit disconcerted by the fact that the Khajiit had not acknowledged his presence, or even moved or opened his eyes since. "Hello? My name is Nedhelfin. I'm from the College of Winterhold. We're here to...er, save you...?" Still nothing. Maybe he was already dead and being held in place by necrotic magic, Ned mused. Probably something really ancient and dark, with lots of y's and k's in it. Magyyks.

"I told you he was a freak," Orthorn called out, apparently trying to be helpful. "When they dragged him in here, he was perfectly calm, and he's just been sitting like that ever since. It's unsettling."

"HEY!" Ned yelled, reaching out and shaking the bars of the cage.

"Ned, knock it off!" Brelyna hissed. "There are probably still other necromancers about."

"Whatever," Ned said with a sigh. "Later, cat. Have fun starving to death, I hear it's a hoot and a holler."

He walked back over to Brelyna and Orthorn, fixing his gaze firmly on the latter. "So. About these books."

"Yes, yes, of course," Orthorn said. "The Caller will have them. Up in the ritual chamber, most likely. She's crazy, that one. I just thought...well, I wasn't really thinking. I figured it'd make me cool to dabble with that kind of magic, y'know? That the power would...I don't know. But her, she's truly mad. She'll kill anyone who gets in her way."

"You hear that, Brelyna?" Ned said, maintaining a straight face as best he could, "Orthorn here just volunteered to go in first. How considerate of him."

Ned would not have guessed that the poor Altmer could've blanched any further, but he did. Ned half-expected him to break down and cry, but to his surprise, and grudging respect, he said, "okay."

"What?"

"Okay. It's the least I can do. If I die, well, it is a death I will have earned for a life lived poorly. I only ask that when you return to the college, you give my sincerest apologies to those I wronged."

Ned blinked a few times, and could not think of anything to say. He looked to Brelyna, who appeared equally speechless.

"Uh...okay, wow. We're not going to just let you get killed. I mean, come on, that'd be a really shitty thing to do." Ned shrugged. "We'll be fine. Lead the way, but Brelyna and I will have your back, okay?"

The seemed to buck Orthorn up a bit, and he nodded, heading towards the exit. Brelyna followed him, and Ned took up the rear. They were almost to the door when a voice called out, "wait."

Ned turned around, grinning. The Khajiit was now standing, and gazing soulfully towards him.

"Ah, decided to rejoin the world of the living, eh?" he said. "Alright, I'll let you out of your cage and then you can bugger off to wherever it is you were going." He walked over, and cranked back the final lever, opening the door to the final cell. The Khajiit stepped forward, and smiled.

"Thank you, kind sir. I would like to make one more request of you, however." His voice was raspy, but he spoke with better enunciation than most Khajiit Ned had met.

"Oh yeah?" Ned asked.

"The path before you is gravely dangerous. Let me accompany you."

Ned looked the man up and down - no weapons and no armor to speak of - then looked at his face to see if he was joking. He looked, if anything, sorrowful.

"Uh. Are you sure you will be of much help?" Ned asked, glancing back at Brelyna, who shrugged uncertainly. "Do you know magic?"

"I am a skilled healer, but other than that, no," the Khajiit responded. "But I will be a valuable asset regardless. I do not wish to see any bloodshed, but if it is between an innocent soul such as yours and a corrupt one such as she who calls herself The Caller, the choice is clear. I will aid you."

Ned opened and closed his mouth a few times, but could think of no good excuse to refuse. "Alright," he said. "You better be more of an asset than a burden, is all I'm gonna say."

Feeling somehow less confident than he did when there were only three of them, Ned followed Orthorn and Brelyna out of the room, the Khajiit trailing behind. As Orthorn navigated the way upwards towards the ritual chamber, Ned looked back at the new companion.

"So, uh, what's your name?" he asked.

"I am called S'shani. And you?"

"Nedhelfin. But, uh, I prefer Ned, since the full version is kind of obnoxious."

They walked on, once more engulfed in awkward silence. For whatever reason, Ned found himself far more anxious about this conversation than he was about the impending battle. "You, uh...what is it you do? Like, for a living?"

"I wander," S'shani answered. "Heal the wounded, help those in need. And you?"

"Uh, student," Ned answered, feeling that this usage of 'and you?' was hardly fair. "College of Winterhold. Y'know, magic. And...things."

"Of course," S'shani answered.

"Shh!" Orthorn called out from ahead, and Ned had never been so grateful for the prospect of incoming hostiles.

"What is it?" Brelyna whispered, trying to crane her neck to see.

"Mess hall," Orthorn answered. "And it's about dinner time. There's going to be upward of a dozen skilled necromancers in between us and the ritual chamber in a matter of minutes."

"Okay, those aren't...great odds," Ned responded, counting on his fingers. "Can we each kill three people?"

"You could hardly kill one, earlier," Brelyna said with a sigh.

"Okay, okay, can you each kill four, and I'll kill one? I'm kidding," he hastily added, withering under Brelyna's gaze.

"Perhaps stealth is the best solution," S'shani suggested, and Brelyna nodded.

"What, are we just going to hope nobody looks at us as we crawl across the middle of a crowded floor?" Ned asked. "That's an even worse idea than mine."

"We're mages, Ned, we'll use magic," Brelyna said. "Honestly, sometimes I wonder how you got into the College in the first place."

"My good looks, probably," Ned conceded with a shrug.

"Apologies, but I am not a mage," S'shani interjected. "Unless one of you are able to cast a spell on two of us, I will not be able to assist in this endeavor."

"But they know you're a prisoner," Brelyna said. "Same with Orthorn here," whom she jabbed in the back. "I'll just put an illusion spell on Ned to make him look like one of the necromancers. Then he just walks the two prisoners by, saying they're needed in the ritual chamber."

"You're going to put our lives in the hands of this oaf?" Orthorn snapped.

"Alternative suggestion: we throw Orthorn into the middle of the room, and sneak by while everyone is killing him," Ned said coldly, glaring at the Altmer, who sighed.

"Fine. We'll do it her way. But where does that leave you?" he asked Brelyna.

"I'll maintain the spell until you're safely past everyone. Then I'll just throw on a light invisibility spell and catch up with you."

Ned, who had been incredibly proud of himself for successfully forming an ice spike earlier, stared at Brelyna. She was going to change his appearance, and then make herself invisible? Damn.

"Well, we better get this over with quickly, before someone stumbles upon us hanging out in this hallway like sitting ducks," Orthorn said. Brelyna nodded, and held her hand up to Ned. He felt a wave of magic wash over him. Looking down, he now saw the black robes of the necromancer they had killed draped around his body.

"A new face is an improvement for you," Orthorn said with a chuckle. Brelyna giggled as well, to Ned's chagrin.

"Alright, go! I'll catch up when the coast is clear." Brelyna gave Ned a gentle shove, and the Bosmer grasped the shoulders of both Orthorn and S'shani, pushing them ahead of himself.

Compared to the consistent darkness of the catacombs beneath the keep, the main hall was startlingly bright. Ned had to blink his eyes a few times to adjust, and became worried that he looked too disoriented and out of place. He tightened his grip on the Altmer and Khajiit - ignoring a yelp from the former - and hurried towards the back stairwell as quickly as he could.

"Niraegaer!" came a voice that was approaching him at great speed. A hand clasped him on the shoulder jovially. "So, they finally let you off guard duty, eh?"

"Yes," Ned said, stone-faced.

"And the Caller wants...eesh, both prisoners? What's she doing up there, I wonder...having all the fun without us, eh?" the man chuckled.

"Ah hah hah hah hah hah," Ned muttered, trying to put his heart into it. "Well, I best get these to her-"

"Now hold on a second," the man continued, grabbing Ned's wrist rather firmly. "I've got an experiment of my own I've been waiting for a test subject on. The Caller hardly needs both of them, right? How about you let me have one?"

"I really think I ought to just bring them to-" Ned frantically tried to say, but was cut off by another necromancer coming up and grabbing Orthorn by the shoulders, grinning maliciously at him.

"Take the rotten Elf here," the newcomer said. "Ol' Orthorn will be far more useful once he's dead than he ever was when he's alive, ain't that right?" Both necromancers laughed. Orthorn squirmed in the second man's grip. He was a big man, who towered over the Altmer. His square jaw and wide grin loomed out from the confines of his dark hood.

"So, we're in agreement then? You give the Caller the furball, and we'll show Orthorn one last spell, for old time's sake?" the second man said. He was smaller, skinnier, more wiry. Ned wasn't that physically imposing himself, but figured this was as good a time as any to clamp down on someone potentially weaker than him. He balled his right hand into a fist, and brought it firmly into his adversary's jaw, sending him flying into a table. Several more heads turned to stare at them, but he puffed out his chest defiantly.

"Anyone else who wishes to defy the Caller can take it up with her," he said. "Now get out of my way unless you want to be a third sacrifice." Without waiting another moment, he pushed Orthorn and S'shani ahead of him up the stairs.

He felt every heartbeat echo through his body, felt his blood rushing through his veins. The world was a blur until they reached the top of the steps, and he finally exhaled.

"You did good work," S'shani said, offering a genial smile. Even Orthorn nodded in grudging agreement. Ned was about to reply, either with thanks or a stream of curses induced by the intense stress, but was cut off by the sound of a commotion from below. Various shouts and scuffling of feet, as if the group below was mobilizing.

"Shit! They're onto us. We're dead!" Orthorn cried. Ned slapped him - partly for being hysterical, and partly because he had really wanted to slap him this entire time.

"Where is our destination? Perhaps we can make it there first," S'shani said. Orthorn nodded, rubbing his cheek.

"It's just down here. But we'll need a key, and I don't have one." He sat off, the other two following behind him.

"Hey, where is Brelyna?" Ned asked. He could feel the magic falling off of him. He was once more wearing his normal blue robes, and he could only assume his regular homely face was plastered back on the front of his head. "She should've caught up by now."

"Maybe that was the commotion," Orthorn said with a shrug. "Maybe they saw her and she had to make a run for it."

"Then we have to go back and help her!" Ned shouted, and immediately made to run back the way they had come, but a hand firmly grasped his shoulder, holding him back.

"No," S'shani said. "Doing so will help no one. She is skilled, and will be able to evade capture. We must continue with her plan as best we can without her."

Ned sighed. The stupid Khajiit was right. Brelyna was twice the mage Ned was, and throwing himself into any fracas with her would just make things more complicated and difficult.

It was sometimes nice to at least pretend he wasn't such a hindrance.

"Halt!" a voice suddenly cried out. It was not coming from behind them, but from down a side passage. A new necromancer was rapidly approaching them, hands glowing and ready to unleash hell at the slightest provocation. Ned and Orthorn froze.

The necromancer grinned. "Oh, the Caller is going to enjoy this little gift," he said, and raised both his hands into the air-

-And suddenly one hand was being twisted backwards, the wrist caught in the iron grip of S'shani. The necromancer let out a gasp of shock and pain, buckling to his knees as bones in his wrist splintered apart.

"Do you have a key to the ritual chamber?" S'shani asked, calmly.

The necromancer nodded furiously.

"Using your free hand, take it and politely toss it towards my friend Nedhelfin here," the Khajiit continued, nodding in Ned's direction.

The necromancer stuck his sweaty and shaking left hand into a pouch on his robes, grabbed a key ring, and threw it. Ned fumbled it, and it clattered to the floor. As he awkwardly bent over to pick it up, S'shani continued speaking.

"The path of necromancy is a dark and misguided one. You have, by virtue of associating with these miscreants, committed great injustices against the gods and your fellow man. It is never too late for redemption, however. I am going to release your hand. You may either repent for your misdeeds, and accompany us safely away from this den of iniquity, or you may continue down the path you are on. Do you understand your choice?"

The necromancer nodded furiously once more, and S'shani released him. He collapsed backwards, nursing his injured hand, then glared up at the Khajiit, hate clearly etched into his eyes. "I'll skin you alive for that," he shouted, lightning flaring up once more in his good hand, but in a heartbeat S'shani's hands shot outwards, grasped the necromancer firmly around the neck, and twisted. His corpse slumped to the ground.

"Uh," Ned said as S'shani walked back towards him.

"I do not wish to talk about it," the Khajiit responded. "You have your keys. Let us continue."

His jaw still hanging agape, Ned followed. Orthorn also appeared to be as stunned as he was, but quickly snapped out of his reverie and moved back to the front of the group.

"The ritual chamber is just over...ahah," he said, turning through a final corridor and stopping in front of a large pair of oak doors. Ned went to hand him the keys, but Orthorn shook his head. "Oh, no no no. I'm not going in first, not when I know we've got some sort of crazy fighting guru with us. Send him in."

"I will be glad to lend my assistance if confrontation is unavoidable," S'shani began, "but I am only useful in close-quarters combat. If this 'Caller' is able to maintain distance, as I assume adept mages do, I will be dispatched rather quickly."

"You heard the man," Ned said, holding the keys back out to Orthorn, "mages first."

"But...you're a mage, too!" Orthorn protested.

"Right, addendum: mages who are also weasely little snots first."

Orthorn sighed, grabbed the keys, fished out the correct one, and put it in the lock. Gulping, he pushed the door open, and the three stepped inside.

Two raised platforms were in the far back corners of the room, each with a pedestal on them, each pedestal topped with a book. They were looking for three very rare, very specific books - and his gut told him these were, of course them. The third was on another pedestal, this one at the very center of the room. It was open, and being read by a woman in the same dark robes that everyone else in the keep had worn. She looked up, a rather pleasant grin spreading across her face. Ned was horrified to realize she was quite young and attractive. He had assumed being a total creep was a prerequisite for this line of work.

"Ah, Orthorn. So nice of you to drop by," she said, slowly walking around the pedestal. "And who is this you've brought with you? A nice new rug, and some Bosmer for dinner?"

Orthorn tried to retort, but ended up making a bunch of stuttering, clicking noises with his mouth. The Caller laughed seductively.

"Er, I think what he's trying to say," Ned piped up, "is, 'we're here to stop you and take back what's ours.' Or, uh, something."

"Oh? Is that what you're trying to say, Orthorn?" she came a few steps closer, and extended a smooth hand towards the Altmer. "Or did you come to get back into my good graces? Wouldn't you rather rejoin us, become one of the elite once more?"

Ned groaned as Orthorn nodded ever-so-slightly.

"Then start your process of ingratiation by killing these two for me, would you, dear?" The Caller backed away, once more placing a hand on top of the book.

Orthorn turned towards Ned, his face sorrowful. "I'm sorry about this..."

"Oh, you really are an ass," Ned said, before a blast of fire threw him backwards. It wasn't too terribly overpowering, however, and he was soon back on his feet, albeit coughing up a few mouthfuls of ash. "That all you got?" he sneered.

He anticipated that Orthorn would try to throw another fireball at him, so he quickly materialized a shield of energy in front of him. The blast hit it and ricocheted off, flying towards the Caller. It slammed into the pedestal, and the book she was reading went up in flames. Both she and Ned cried out at the same time.

"S'shani! Save the book!" he cried, but was interrupted by Orthorn, forsaking magic, tackling him to the floor. The feeble elf managed to get a good handhold around his neck, but Ned pushed back, rolling over and gaining the high ground. He slammed the palm of his hand down onto Orthorn's face, flattening his nose and causing blood to seep down his mouth and chin. Suddenly the Altmer was hot to the touch; his hands erupting in scorching pain, Ned leapt backwards. The bastard had put a flame cloak spell on.

"How about you...COOL off?" Ned yelled, holding out both hands and launching a barrage of freezing air towards his adversary. Orthorn coughed and spluttered, stumbling backwards against the onslaught. As the life seemed to drain almost completely from his eyes, Ned stopped, balled his hand into a fist, and clubbed him over the head, knocking him unconscious.

Or, as he would've put it...out cold.

Ned turned back to see S'shani slowly moving towards the Caller, locked in a powerful stream of lightning that was steadily emanating from both her hands. Ned ran towards her, but she took one hand away, pointed it at him, and fired a volley that effortlessly flung him across the room. Ned rolled across the floor, and realized he was rather close to one of the raised platforms. If he could just grab the books and get out of there while she was focused on S'shani...

He couldn't help but envision a much smaller version of himself appearing on one of his shoulders to fix him with a condescending glare.

"Ned, he is putting himself in great danger to help you, and he doesn't even know you. He is a good man - you cannot simply leave him to die."

A second version of himself, this one with a pointed goatee that Ned could never hope to grow himself, materialized on the opposite shoulder.

"Yeah, and you don't know him either. Just because he's got a fetish for playing the hero doesn't mean you owe him squat. You've got one mission, and that's grab the books, get home, and sleep in your nice, comfy bed."

Grunting with pain as he stood up, Ned hoisted himself onto the first raised pedestal and grabbed the first book. The Caller seemed to have turned her attention fully back onto S'shani, and so he ran as quickly as he could across the room, hopped onto the second platform, and grabbed the second book.

S'shani had fallen to his knees now, but was still crawling pathetically forward, as the Caller took a few steps back to remain out of reach. She cackled, clearly enjoying herself. Ned backed away slowly, almost to the door...

Oh, god damnit.

He charged forward, lifted one of the books over his head, and slammed it down on top of the Caller. She yelped, turned around, and released a potent blast of fire. Ned had been anticipating this, and brought up his shield. The resulting effect was catastrophic: the two of them were both flung backwards, and Ned felt the book in his hand get torn apart by the force of the blast.

As he slammed chest-first back onto the ground, however, he could feel the third and final book still intact against him protected by his shield. He needed to get it out of here at any cost.

He stood up, hobbled a few feet, then felt another jolt of electricity hit his legs. He stumbled forward, and this time slammed his head into the hard floor with enough force to hear his skull crack. The world went out of focus; his hearing dimmed, and everything looked blurry. He cast his bleary gaze back towards the Caller, who was approaching him.

"I'm going to have fun killing you over the next couple of weeks," she snarled, raising her hands-

The air seemed to empty from the room. His eyes were drawn to S'shani, who looked to be inhaling.

"Fus..."

"Goodbye, whelp..."

"RO DAH!"

The world itself rippled away from S'shani; suddenly the Caller was no longer in front of him. Turning his head as far as he could without his vision exploding in pain, he saw her crumbled against a wall, her body broken and misshapen.

Then he saw the Khajiit running over to him, before he blacked out.


	2. The Road to Hell

Part II: The Road to Hell

When Ned awoke, it was snowing.

At first he thought this was a very silly thing for the inside of a castle to be doing. Then he realized he was outside, laying on the grass. He slowly pushed himself up, and realized that, on the whole, he didn't feel quite that bad. He was a bit sore, and his vision was still a tad blurry, but he expected that after being blown up, electrocuted, and concussed, one was generally a bit more worse for wear.

As his eyesight began to grow used to the light of being outdoors, he took in his surroundings. He was a few hundred feet from the keep, which loomed menacingly over the horizon as keeps are known to do. There was a horse nearby, which S'shani was inspecting. The Khajiit appeared to have secured a rather large and bulky bundle to it, and it took Ned a few moments to realize it was Orthorn.

S'shani turned, and saw that Ned was awake. He smiled. "How are you feeling?"

Ned stood up and stretched. "Y'know, pretty good. Did you carry us both all the way here? And whose horse is that?"

"Glad to hear it, yes, and one of the necromancer's, I assume," S'shani answered. "I must say, I find it quite admirable that you left the Altmer alive after he attempted to betray us. That displays a strength of spirit and mercy that many men lack."

"Uh," Ned responded. "Yeah. Strength of spirit, that's me in a nutshell."

Come to think of it, why had he let Orthorn live? One good icicle to the brain and the little bastard wouldn't be anyone's problem anymore. He had even risked his life to save this Khajiit - a total stranger. Why?

Which reminded him...

"Hey," he said, catching S'shani's attention once more, as he was about to turn back to the horse. "Before I blacked out, I saw you do...something...to the Caller. It was like you yelled at her, and she just sort of...broke. What was that?"

S'shani simply looked at Ned. They continued to stare at each other for what was, to Ned, an extremely uncomfortably long silence. Then S'shani shrugged.

"You hit your head pretty badly. You were likely confused and disoriented."

Ned frowned, scratching his head. "Uh, sure. If you say so. Hey, did you see any sign of Brelyna?"

"No," S'shani answered. "I would offer to stay and search for her, but the necromancers will likely be making full sweeps of the area soon, once they realize what has happened. We should hasten from the area. It is likely she will be heading back to your College, yes?"

Ned wrung his hands together nervously. "We can't just...leave Brelyna here."

His eyes widened, however, when the Khajiit reached into a pouch and produced the sole book that Ned had managed to save. "I believe you were on an important mission, yes? Something to do with this book?"

"Ah! Thank Gods - we managed to grab one..." Ned sighed, but then he cursed under his breath. Two were destroyed...well, hopefully they weren't *that* incredibly important...

He grabbed the book from S'shani and glanced down at it. Embroidered into the cover was the title and author: 'Night of Tears' by Dranor Seleth. Subtitled underneath: 'An inquiry into the cause of the night of tears.' The words rang a distant, foggy bell in Ned's memory, but he could not recall what, exactly, the Night of Tears was.

"I do not think Brelyna would much appreciate it if we allowed this book to fall back into enemy hands after all we went through to procure it," S'shani said. "At least, I would not, were I here."

"Yeah, yeah...stupid selfless logic," Ned grumbled. "For the record, if I'm ever the one who falls behind, you drop everything and come save my ass, got it?"

S'shani chuckled. "Of course."

The Khajiit then motioned to the horse. "Let us get going. I am not certain of the way to your College, so you may take the reins."

Ned nodded, and approached the horse. Just then, Orthorn began to stir. He let out a muffled groan, then his eyes registered deep fear and horror when he realized his situation. Ned grinned at him.

"Morning, Orthorn," he said. "Sorry, we killed your girlfriend. I'm not sure if they've got any prisons in Winterhold, but if not, hey, there are some nice cliffs we could throw you off of."

Orthorn whimpered, but other than that, remained silent.

Ned mounted the horse, and S'shani mounted behind him, with Orthorn tied up behind him. It was a tight fit, to say the least.

"Hey, uh, not that I don't appreciate the help, what with saving my life and healing me and getting me a horse and everything, but...how far do you intend to follow me?" Ned asked, kicking the horse into a slow trot away from the keep.

"I told you earlier, I am a wanderer who helps those in need. I have found someone in need, and I intend to help."

"Who, me?" Ned asked. "I'm not in need."

"You are carrying a book that has proven to be of great interest to powerful practitioners of very dark arts, and a prisoner who has proven willing to kill you over it," S'shani responded. "I do not know what started you on this adventure, but I have thrown my hat into it as well; I intend to see it through to the end, with you."

Ned was silent for a moment, then said, "You're not wearing a hat."

S'shani chuckled, but said nothing.

They rode on in silence, a fact that Ned was quite grateful for, for about an hour. The grassy hills of Whiterun Hold began to merge into the rocky plains of Eastmarch, where everything was more thickly dusted with a layer of snow. Ned kept to the roads, urging the horse North, where the city of Windhelm stood impressively in the backdrop, surrounded by the mountain-ranges Skyrim was known for.

The sound of another horse galloping behind them caused Ned's heart to drop into his stomach. The necromancer's had found them!

"Ned! Oh, thank Gods you're alright-"

He spun around in his seat a bit too fast, twisted off of the horse's back, and crashed onto the road.

"Oh. Well, I spoke too soon. *Are* you alright?"

Brelyna pulled back her hood, looking down at him. She smiled, and extended a hand, which Ned accepted to help hoist him back onto his feet.

"We managed to get one of the books, but the other two were destroyed," Ned said, but Brelyna seemed to ignore this, and embraced him.

"I'm just glad you're okay, I was worried you'd all be horrible mindless abominations by now!" she said, still hugging him. Ned was uncertain how he felt about a hug lasting this long.

"Well, Orthorn is one of those, but none of us actually became undead, no," he said, politely disengaging himself. Brelyna turned around, and appeared to notice the other two for the first time. S'shani smiled and nodded at her, and Orthorn continued to lay helplessly across the horse.

"Oh. Uh, what happened, exactly?" she asked.

"I'll explain on the ride back," Ned said. "S'shani, you mind riding on her horse for a bit? Just so we're not so...rubbing up against each other...quite so much?"

"You can ride on my horse, if you'd like," Brelyna said, quietly and meekly, but any implications went sailing right over Ned's head.

"Nah, S'shani doesn't mind, do you?" he asked. The Khajiit sighed, but shook his head. He dismounted the horse, and got on behind Brelyna. Ned took the reins of his once more, and they headed off, riding side by side.

As they rode past Windhelm and prepared for the ascent into the much more tumultuous Winterhold Hold - a name, it should be said, that Ned always found a bit silly - Ned regaled Brelyna with the tale of how they defeated the Caller and escaped the Keep. Well, *a* tale, if not quite the actual tale. In this version, he was quite a bit more heroic, which S'shani did not question or correct him on. He also left out the part where the Khajiit had bent reality around him in a way that was not traditional magic, and flung the Caller effortlessly across the room. Though he left it out, and though S'shani had denied it, he was certain this had happened. He couldn't help but keep a wary eye on the Khajiit.

What ARE you?

"So, if it is okay for me to ask," S'shani said when Ned had finished his riveting tale, "what is the significance of the book? Why travel so far and risk such danger for it?"

"We mages take our reading very seriously," Ned said, nodding sternly. When S'shani gave him a look that was not particularly amused, he added, "also, we found some big glowing orb thing and we want to make sure it doesn't blow up the world or anything."

"That's still a really terrible answer," Brelyna said with a sigh. "We found an ancient artifact called the Eye of Magnus. We believe it to be an object of untold power that the Nords sealed away from an Elven invasion, so that it would not fall into the wrong hands."

"Right, and what shape is it?" Ned persisted.

Brelyna faltered. "Well, it is rather...spherical, and I suppose it does...emanate a slight glow...okay, fine. It's a big glowing orb thing and we want to make sure it doesn't blow up the world."

"Thank you," Ned said, smiling smugly.

It was the dead of night by the time they reached Winterhold. The area was pockmarked with cliffs of ice jutting out over deep chasms. This had led to many an unwary traveler or drunken reveler's demise, so Ned was quite glad to finally be home, as opposed to plummeting downward at a rapidly increasing, and then even more rapidly decreasing, velocity.

They had been silent for some time, but as they finally dismounted their horses, Ned turned to S'shani and extended his hand.

"Well, it was a pleasure, thanks for all your help," he said. S'shani shook his hand, albeit looking a bit confused as he did so.

"Ned!" Brelyna snapped. "It's the dead of night and freezing cold out, we're not just going to send him off."

"Oh," Ned said, genuinely perplexed. "They don't let non-students into the college though."

"They do, however, give tests to allow anyone who wishes to prove they are worthy of becoming a student," Brelyna responded. Ned furrowed his brow.

"He's not a mage! He said so himself," he argued.

"He also said he was a skilled healer, and based on the fact that you're not being carted back in several bags, I'd say he's right. Isn't that so?" Brelyna said, turning to S'shani. The Khajiit nodded.

"I am indeed skilled in the healing arts, which I suppose is considered by some to be a school of magic. If you are willing to have me, I would be honoured to join your side at the College," he said, bowing slightly. Ned stuck out his tongue.

"Guy heals a few bruises and suddenly he's a mage," he sneered under his breath. "I had to conjure a flame atronoch to get in. And then it kicked my ass."

They walked up the slight incline towards the College, which was located rather precariously on the very tip of a cliff face. The sea lapped into the rocky shore below, and it would've been quite serene if the thought didn't give Ned a case of vertigo. Brelyna patted him comfortingly on the shoulder. He wondered why she did things like that even though she clearly must've realized he was an ass, and a mediocre mage to boot.

Faralda was the mage on guard duty, making sure no unwanted miscreants tried to enter the college uninvited. An older Altmer woman with a haughty attitude, she had also been the one who administered Ned's test when he first came to apply at the College. He had the feeling she didn't quite like him, but he also had the feeling she didn't quite like anyone.

"Who goes there?" she called out as they approached, flaring up some magelight to illuminate the path.

"Just a bunch of horkers, nothing to worry about," Ned announced, but Brelyna quickly spoke over him.

"Brelyna Maryon and Nedhelfin, miss," she said. "And we've got both a visitor and a prisoner with us. Mr. gro-Shub may wish to see us right away, miss."

Faralda nodded. "Fine. Wait here, I'll fetch him. We'll not be keeping a prisoner within our walls; we'll need to figure out what to do with him." She turned and bustled off.

They stood there in silence for a few moments, Ned wrapping his arms around himself in a futile attempt to resist the cold, while simultaneously trying really hard not to wonder how secure the bridge, which was the only thing in between themselves and plummeting, was.

"This looks to be a very peaceful area," S'shani said, apparently not harboring the same fears as Ned. "I can see why you would seek to join this College to pursue your studies."

Brelyna nodded, smiling politely, while Ned simply continued to grimace. There weren't many students at the College of Winterhold, but he knew he was the worst by quite a bit. Everyone else seemed to have some fiery passion that drove them to the study of magic above anything else. Brelyna was studious, with a healthy thirst for magic; others were hungry for personal power, while others were looking to prove themselves. Some wanted to use magic to help the world, others wanted to use it to help themselves.

Ned was simply even worse at everything else than he was at magic.

The whole reason he had moved to Skyrim was because he had no chance in Oblivion of getting into the Synod, which had been a foolish childhood dream of his. He knew the College was more varied in its members, and less inclined to cast out or kill someone for not being up to par. Ned had long since lost any and all fire to learn that may have been in him at one time. Now he was just happy to have a roof over his head and a regular hot meal, even if it did sometimes contain cheese.

The great gates swung open once more, and Urag gro-Shub, the old and highly respected librarian of the College, came bustling out in his nightgown. Ned had to admit a bit of latent racism; he had always thought Orcs were supposed to be big hulking thugs more inclined to eat a book than read one, yet gro-Shub had an undeniably impressive wealth of knowledge, both in his library and in his head.

"The books! You have the books?" he said, looking at the assembled students frantically.

"Yes," Ned said before he could stop himself. "Well, uh, we have...the book. At least." He produced Night of Tears, and held it up hopefully.

"The book? A single book?" gro-Shub's face began to contort into one of fury, and there is no face more highly attuned for fury than that of an Orc. "I sent you out for three books, Nedhelfin. Where are the other two?"

"Okay, yes, well, you see-" Ned began to stutter.

"There were lots of necromancers there-" Brelyna added, jumping in to his defense.

"Yes, quite a few magical explosions happened-" S'shani chimed in.

"This one crazy lady, the Caller-"

"Pretty much exploding books left and right-"

"Tried to stop her, but she was determined to burn-"

"Barely managed to escape with one book-"

"Put our lives in grave danger-"

"Really should be thanking us for even managing that-"

"I think I really need to see a doctor," Orthorn mumbled, the first thing he had said since regaining consciousness.

Gro-Shub looked between all of them, trying to take this all in. "I'm sorry, who in Oblivion is this guy?"he said, waving towards the Khajiit.

"My name is S'shani, sir," he said with a bow. "Your students valiantly rescued me from imprisonment within the dungeon of the necromancers. I can attest that they went through a great deal to procure that book for you, and swear on my honour that they would have done anything to save the other two, if they could."

"Your honour, eh?" gro-Shub said, eyeing S'shani up and down. "Not often you hear a Khajiit staking his honour on something, and sounding damn well like he means it." He stalked over, and snatched the book from Ned's hands. He inspected it closely. "Night of Tears. Lucky for you, you may have managed to secure the most important one. I suppose I can find it within myself to not recommend your immediate expulsion to the arch-mage." He sighed. "Why don't you head on in, my knees are telling me it's going to snow soon."

"Sir, S'shani would like to take the test for entry to the College," she said. "And we are unsure what to do with Orthorn, who attempted to stop us from returning with the books."

"Ah. Interested in joining our ranks, are you?" gro-Shub said, walking in a slow circle around S'shani. "What kind of magic do you know?"

"I am skilled in the art of Restoration, sir," he said. "I regret to say my knowledge of the other schools are lacking."

"Ah, well," the librarian said with a chuckle, "I think Colette just found her new favorite student. One moment."

He reached into his night-gown and pulled out a small, yet distressingly sharp knife. Ned wondered if keeping a shiv in your night-gown was standard Orc behavior. He stepped over to Orthorn and grabbed the Altmer by the hair, hoisting him up. Orthorn yelped nervously, eyes darting around uncertainly. Sitting him up straight on the horse, gro-Shub grabbed his arm, and held out his palm with one hand, then dragged the blade across the open palm with the other. Orthorn let out a howl of pain.

"Heal him," gro-Shub said. "And be glad I slit your palm, and not your throat," he growled, which shut Orthorn up rather quickly.

S'shani stepped over to Orthorn and grabbed the extended, bleeding hand. He raised his own right hand over it, so that the two were perfectly mirrored; a white glow started to emanate from his palm. It expanded, engulfing both hands. Orthorn closed his eyes, letting out a soft sigh of relief. Ned craned his neck to try and see what was going on. He caught a glimpse of the cut slowly sealing in on itself, until after a moment there was nothing but a faint scar. The glow faded away, and S'shani released Orthorn, who slumped visibly, his body still shaking all over.

"Very good," gro-Shub said, nodding. He didn't smile, but it was the sort of not-smile those who don't smile make when they're happy. "Far as I'm concerned, you're in. Talk to Ms. Ervine about getting a room and anything else you need; if she asks, let her know I'm vouching for you. On my honour."

S'shani smirked, and bowed. "Thank you, sir."

"And now," gro-Shub suddenly yelled, once more grasping Orthorn by the hair. "It's time to show one poor unfortunate soul what happens when you disrespect the written word. You kids have a good night." He tugged on Orthorn so hard he fell off the horse, and began to drag him off towards the main town of Winterhold.

"What do you think he's going to do to him?" Brelyna asked, taking a few steps closer to Ned as they all watched the Orc storm off.

"I'm sure he'll take him to the city guard," he replied. "Y'know, eventually."

The three turned and made their way through the gates, finally back within the College proper. The grounds were a giant circle surrounded by large pillars of stone, with an open roof to the sky above - which made running from dorm room the lecture hall in the middle of a blizzard a bit of a pain. A large statue of a wizard greeted them with arms extended; Ned had never quite figured out who the statue was supposed to be of, but he figured it was someone important, like the founder or something.

Ned and Brelyna hooked a left towards the dorms where the apprentices slept, S'shani following behind, looking around wide-eyed and full of awe. Ned wondered what he was looking at in this pitch blackness, then remembered hearing something about how Khajiit could see in the dark. Claws, night vision, a permanent fur coat...Ned wondered what Bosmer had going for them. They could probably climb trees really fast? He could not recall a time where this would ever have proven useful.

Ned pushed the door to the dorms open, and held it for Brelyna and S'shani. Brelyna blushed and said, "thank you," as she walked by. S'shani shot him a knowing glance. Ned mused that the both of them were pretty dang weird.

"Looks like everyone is asleep," Brelyna whispered. "S'shani, you should sleep in Ned's room tonight, until they can find somewhere for you in the morning."

"Er, well, actually-" Ned began to protest.

"Thank you, Nedhelfin. You are truly a kind soul, and I am blessed to have encountered you." S'shani bowed before him. "I will not be a burden, I promise. The floor will be more than acceptable."

"No, no, Ned will give up his bed for tonight," Brelyna went on, patting Ned on the** book**.

"Now hold on just a-"

"Truly your hospitality knows no bounds," S'shani continued. "I will repay you for your kindness, this I promise. I am quite sleepy; which bed is yours, Nedhelfin?"

Ned opened and closed his mouth a few times. "This way...goodnight, Brelyna."

"Goodnight, Ned," she said with a chuckle. "'Night, S'shani."

"Pleasant dreams to you," the Khajiit said, before following after Ned.

Ned tromped off to an alcove in the large, circular room. He held his hand over a small container, and a light appeared within it, illuminating the rather small but none-too-shabby room that Ned had called home for the past few years. Assorted alchemical ingredients littered the various shelves and table-tops, a few books were stacked on top of each other, and a small soul shard was being used as a paperweight for some notes Ned had jotted down in rare moments of giving a shit. He turned around to face S'shani, and held his arms up in the air in an exaggerated moment of pride.

"Well, that was the grand tour," he said. "There's the bed, your majesty. If you get hungry, I'm pretty sure I've got, like, a potato or something in one of these drawers." He opened a drawer at random, took a sniff, made a horrified face, and slammed the door shut. "Not that one."

S'shani sat down on the bed, and slowly lowered himself down onto the pillow. "It is not often one meets someone willing to sacrifice comfort for another, especially someone they do not know well," he said. "I believe in the great force of karma, Nedhelfin, and I feel great things are destined for your future."

Yes, but a night sleeping on a cold, hard floor is what awaits me in my more immediate future, Ned thought. Out loud he said, "it's fine."

"Brelyna is quite kind as well," S'shani continued. "And quite taken with you. Did you know that?"

There was a pause, as Ned attempted to get comfortable on the floor, but then he shot back up. "What?"

"Oh yes. The way she looks at you and talks to you. I have seen it many times in young couples, experiencing the joy of a new romance. I assumed you had realized this; it struck me as quite obvious."

Ned slowly lowered himself back to the floor. Huh.

"I shall keep you awake no longer with my idle musings, Nedhelfin."

All Ned heard was a sort of high-pitched buzz. His brain was cranking itself into full overdrive. Brelyna was in love with him? *Him?* He knew she didn't have the greatest self-confidence, but seriously?

"Needless to say I thank you once more for all your hospitality."

Did he like her? Well, she was pretty, in that sort of dark blue way Dunmer were. And she was nice to him, when they weren't constantly bickering or berating each other. But, he supposed, it was generally playful bickering.

"Goodnight, my friend."

Was she waiting on him to make some sort of move? Was he supposed to ask her out on some sort of 'date?' He had never been on a date before. Unless riding out to a castle full of necromancers to kill your way to a couple of books constituted a date. It probably didn't.

"Fus ro dah."

And just like that, all thoughts of romance were blown out of his head as if by some otherworldly force. His eyes shot open, and he stared at the ceiling.

"What did you just say?" he asked, softly, his voice shaking.

S'shani let in a few slow, deep breaths. The Khajiit was sound asleep.

At some point, Ned fell asleep. It was the kind of sleep where one could feel convinced they had not slept at all, except for the fact that he rather suddenly woke up, feeling even more tired than he had last night.

Then he screamed.

This was because a face was hovering over his, eyes wide with great curiosity. It was a Khajiit face, though certainly not S'shani's. This one had a devious cunning to it, a sly smile that curled up behind a draping black mustache.

"Why are you in my room, J'zargo," Ned groaned, trying to roll over and pull his sheets over his head before remembering he was on the floor without any sheets.

"J'zargo is curious as to why another man sleeps in your bed, while you sleep upon the floor," he responded, straightening up. For a moment Ned thought he was about to offer him a hand in getting off the floor, but then realized that was probably silly of him to expect. He grunted, pushing himself up.

"Haven't you heard, J'zargo," he said, putting on an overly whimsical tone of voice, "I'm a truly kind soul and my hospitality has no bounds."

Ned turned his head to look at S'shani, sleeping soundly in his bed. What an asshole. Then memories from last night came rushing back to him, and he grabbed J'zargo by the shoulders, speaking to him in an urgent, yet hushed voice.

"J'zargo," he said, "can you do me a favor? An honest to goodness favor that doesn't involve any competitive aspects whatsoever and can be completed without somehow screwing me over for personal gain? Is that within your capabilities, J'zargo?"

"J'zargo thinks he can handle such a favor, if only for a close friend like Nedhelfin," J'zargo responded with a grin.

"When he wakes up," Ned continued, thrusting a figure towards S'shani, "keep him busy for me. Show him around. Give him the tour. Whatever. Just...don't let him come looking for me. Okay?"

"This, J'zargo can do," the Khajiit said with a nod. "It has been a long time since we've spoken at length with another Khajiit. It will be a pleasure."

"Great. Thanks. I owe you," he said, and instantly regretted it when he saw J'zargo's smug grin. Still, it was the best plan he had. He bolted out of his room, and threw open the doors to the main campus of the college.

For a brief moment he realized he hadn't properly eaten or bathed in a while, but - despite an overwhelming whiff of himself protesting to the contrary - that could wait. He had to get to the library.

As he scurried across campus, nudging his way past other students meandering about, he saw Brelyna standing by the entrance to the Hall of the Elements, the main study building of the campus. She smiled at him.

"Good morning, Ned," she said. "How-"

"That's great," Ned said absent-mindedly, blowing straight past her without a second glance. He pushed open the door to the Hall and ran inside, instantly hooking a right towards the Arcanaeum, where Urag gro-Shub kept what was arguably the largest collection of books in Skyrim. He made his way carefully up the zig-zagging staircase, and peeked his head around to glance across the circular room. No sign of gru-Shub; he must've been having a blast tormenting Orthorn, wherever they were.

Finally slowing down to a brisk walk, he began to scan the shelves, running a grubby finger along the spines of the books, fully aware that gro-Shub would scalp him for that if he saw it. After a few tense minutes of searching, his heart leapt up as he found the section he was looking for. Here were books on the language of the Ayleids: Glories and Laments, Cleansing the Fane, even the Ayleid Reference Text! Some books about Ehlnofex languages - he wasn't even sure what that word meant, but it looked important. He gathered several books into his arms, then saw a black-bound book. He pulled it out with his free hand, and looked at the cover.

There was no title, just a neatly symmetrical picture of a dragon folded into the shape of a diamond. He shrugged, dropped it onto a nearby table, and placed the other books on top of it.

That day, Ned studied harder than he'd ever studied in his life. He wasn't even consciously aware of what was driving him to this; why had the mysterious S'shani awakened a passion for knowledge he had never experienced before? All he knew was that he had to know. The Khajiit was hiding something, and he would find out what.

After a few hours, he dismissed the possibility that he was speaking Ayleid; his words had been throaty and guttural, while the Ayleid language was very soft and idyllic. After another hour he realized that Ehlnofex was simply the root language for all modern languages; considering he was fluent in two of them, he figured he probably should've realized this sooner.

All that was left was this dragon book-

He nearly fell out of his chair as he heard footsteps echoing up the stairs, heading towards him. He looked around, and noticed what a mess he had made, scattering books all around him chaotically as he finished with them. If gro-Shub saw this...

The figure turned the corner, humming idly to himself, and Ned realized it was the arch-mage. He wasn't sure if this was better or worse.

Savos Aren had always seemed like a relatively laid back man, particularly for someone as powerful and influential as he was. Still, Ned was a bit wary of authority figures, generally because he felt like he was doing something wrong. He tended to avoid the arch-mage as much as he could; the less the man knew about Ned, the less likely he was to realize what a dope he was and throw him out of the College.

He couldn't do much to hide his current predicament, however, and after hastily trying to tidy the books, followed by hastily trying to hide them underneath his chair, he decided to just turn and smile at the arch-mage.

"Hello there...Nedhelfin, yes?" Aren said, nodding at him. "Getting in some good study time, I see? It's always good to see the youth diving into a healthy education."

"Yep," Ned said, nodding and trying to channel as innocent a look as he could muster.

"I was actually hoping to speak with you," Aren continued, pulling up a chair across from Ned. He seemed to neither notice nor care about the books. "I heard that you and Miss Maryon were successful in retrieving at least one of the books from Fellglow Keep, despite the inherent dangers present there. For that, you have my commendations, as well as my personal thanks."

Ned was taken aback, but recovered quickly. "Of course, sir. It was, uh...no problem. Really."

"I am afraid I have need of further assistance in regards to our predicament, however," the arch-mage said. "I have explained the situation to Brelyna, and she has agreed to help. I figured that since you two made an effective team last time, you would be able to team up again."

"Sure," Ned said, absent-mindedly. It had taken him a moment to remember what 'predicament' he was talking about; his obsession with S'shani had made him all but forget about the strange Eye of Magnus that was sitting in the Hall right below them.

"Excellent. I will let Brelyna fill you in on the details, and for now let you get back to your study of..." he paused, and looked down at the black book in front of Ned. "Dragonborn? Interesting. Might I ask what has sparked your curiosity in that particular legend?"

Ned paused, then shrugged. "Just...curious. About knowledge, and...learning."

"Of course." Aren pushed his chair back and stood up. "Keep up the good work, Nedhelfin."

Ned grunted as the arch-mage walked away. The good work. Was this good? What was it he was trying to accomplish? S'shani had saved his life, had proven nothing but pleasant and kind, yet here he was going behind his back trying to dig up some secret on him.

But what if his gut was right, and the secret was...big? How well could he really say he knew S'shani? He had shown up rather conveniently in that cage, not worried about his fate at all...and been really insistent to follow them back to the College, where he was quickly able to gain admittance...what if he intended to cause them harm?

An image flashed across his mind of a monstrous S'shani, twisted and black, looming over the prone figure of Brelyna, bleeding and broken-

My intentions are good, Ned said to himself sternly.

He opened the Book of the Dragonborn, and began reading.


	3. Seeing the Unrevealed

(( Thanks for the nice comments so far, everyone! They're really appreciated. A note on the last chapter; I send these to my girlfriend to edit before posting them, and she bolds typo-s and clunky sentences and the like. I missed one last time, though, hence why there is a sentence saying "she patted him on the book" instead of back, and why "book" is bolded. Sorry about that. ))

Part III: Seeing the Unrevealed

"Well, Ned? You understand the plan?" Brelyna asked, staring intently at Ned, who seemed a bit out of it.

"Yep," Ned said, nodding absent-mindedly.

"Alright, Ned, what is the plan?" she said sternly, crossing her arms across her chest. Ned opened his mouth slightly, and let out a slight gurgle.

"Well, I'm a bit...hazy on the more minute details, but...broadly, I...am aware...that there is a plan. Like, I recall you saying that one exists," he mumbled.

Brelyna sighed. "Sometimes I don't know where your head is."

Ned knew exactly where his head was - with the Dragonborn wandering around the College campus. He was sure of it - after pouring through the Book of the Dragonborn front to back faster than he had ever read a book in his life, he knew that S'shani could speak the dragon tongue. Simply by saying three words next to each other, he had flung a necromancer across a room, shattering every bone in her body.

And that wasn't the least he could do. The book described phrases used to breath great gouts of fire or frost, to run at near-light speeds, and even to alter the flow of time itself.

The book seemed to imply the role was heroic in nature, that the Dragonborn could slay dragons to help save mortals in need. But if that was the case, why wouldn't S'shani admit it? It's not like he had much to worry about, it's not like there were any dragons around he'd be expected to go fight. Why not just say it? 'Yes, I can breathe on people to death, I promise I'll be good about it.'

Brelyna was once more explaining the plan to head into the hollowed out tunnels beneath the College, known as the Midden, in order to ask an ancient entity called the Augur of Dunlain about the Eye of Magnus, a plan that was going in one of Ned's ears and immediately exiting out the other. Ned was wondering how he could prove S'shani was Dragonborn and find out why he was hiding it. Find out what he was up to. It had to be something malicious - didn't it?

"So, now do you understand?" Brelyna asked once more.

"Yep," Ned said, nodding absent-mindedly.

Brelyna realized this was going absolutely nowhere fast and decided to drop the issue entirely. "Okay. Just...go grab whatever things you'll need, and meet me by the entrance to the Midden in half an hour, okay?"

"Yep," Ned said again, and quickly bustled off. Hopefully J'zargo had kept his fellow Khajiit out of trouble. He smirked to himself - he almost felt bad for the poor guy, forced to spend an entire day with J'zargo. Such a horrible fate would surely drive anyone absolutely-

"Hahahahaha! But that is not even the best part - then she said, 'that's not moon sugar, that's dried skeever droppings!' Hahahaha!"

"Oh my goodness, J'zargo, hahahaha..." S'shani panted, wiping a tear from his eye. "Such wonderful stories. You really have been all over. Ah! Here is Nedhelfin." Both Khajiit turned to look at Ned, as he entered the dorm rooms. They were both flushed and had clearly been laughing boisterously for a while. This just served to make Ned even angrier, for whatever reason.

"Yeah, hi. Glad you've been having a jolly old time," he said cynically, brushing past them to get into his room, where he quickly began digging around through his scattered possessions, pocketing the occasional scroll or potion.

"We really have been," S'shani went on. "J'zargo here is quite the story-teller."

"Aye, and S'shani has seen quite a bit of the world himself," J'zargo added. "This has been quite fun, friend, and we insist we do it again sometime."

S'shani stood up, and shook J'zargo's hand. "Agreed. But for now, it would seem that Nedhelfin requires my assistance. Is something the matter?"

Ned had finally finished stuffing a satchel full of supplies, and slung it over his shoulder. "Yeah. Another adventure to go on because of that stupid giant eyeball."

"Ahh," S'shani said, nodding. "Where is it we are going?"

"We are not going anywhere," Ned said, straightening up to look S'shani in the eye. "Brelyna and I are going down into the Midden. Very cramped and narrow. All booked up I'm afraid."

"If you are certain," S'shani responded with a slight bow. "So long as you know that my services are available, should you require them."

"Ah! And if you are heading into the Midden, J'zargo has a request for you," the other Khajiit said, rummaging through his robes. "We have been researching a new spell that is to be extremely effective against the undead, but we would like to have it tested. Would you do this for us, and let us know?"

"Undead?" S'shani inquired, furrowing his brow.

"It's no big deal," Ned said, hastily stowing J'zargo's spell scroll into his satchel without looking at it. "This is Skyrim, you can't step 5 feet into any old underground tunnel without stumbling over a bunch of shambling corpses too stupid to know what 'dead' means."

"I do not think Undead are as laughing a matter as you seem to be implying," S'shani said, still looking quite grave. "Are you sure you do not wish me to-"

"Yes yes yes," Ned said. "I have to go, Brelyna is waiting. Keep telling stories and being best friends or whatever, I'll see you later." Without looking back, he shoved his way between them and exited the dorm rooms.

He then stood there in the cold for a moment, staring around bleary-eyed. Where had Brelyna said the entrance to the Midden was..? Crap.

Twenty minutes later, Ned's bout of random guessing had brought him to the Hall of Countenance, one of the buildings on campus that he rarely had need to enter. He was ambling around, peeking down every corridor he could find, until he finally saw Brelyna, standing at the end of one, glaring at him.

"Finally," she sighed, unfolding her arms, which had once again been in a Ned-induced cross formation across her chest.

"Sorry," he said, attempting an awkward smile. "Got held up by S'shani and J'zargo. I'm all ready now, though."

Brelyna nodded, bent over, and began to unlock what appeared to be a trap door on the floor. As she was in that position, Ned couldn't help but recall his thoughts last night about a potential romantic relationship with her. This view wasn't bad, that was for sure-

"Ready?" she said, looking back at him. He snapped out of his reverie.

"Yeah."

Brelyna began to lower herself down a ladder that disappeared beneath the trap door. Ned peaked over the edge - it was certainly dark down there. He gulped, grabbed the ladder, and slid down after her.

When his feet touched down on cold, hard ground, he turned around and began to walk down the tunnel. He couldn't see a damn thing, and soon slammed into the back of Brelyna.

"Watch it!" she said.

"Watch what?" Ned retaliated. "I can't see my hand in front of my face down here."

There was a pause, and then a shining orb of light sprung into existence and began to slowly circle around Brelyna. She turned to face him, different features of her face lighting up and going dark as the magical light made its orbital journey.

"Once again, Ned, we're-" she began.

"Mages, right," Ned finished. He concentrated, and summoned a light of his own, though his was much cruder and wobbled like a drunk as it circled around his head.

After this, they walked on in silence. Ned wrapped his arms around himself - it was really cold down here. The tunnel twisted and turned, but kept going rather single-mindedly in one direction. It also felt like they were sloping slightly downwards, heading further into the bowels of the earth.

He glanced at Brelyna, who seemed lost in her own thoughts. He let out a slight cough. When this failed to get her attention, he more pointedly said, "a-hem."

"Hm?" she mumbled, turning back to look at him.

"Oh, well," he said, and then paused. He cleared his throat, and continued, "you look nice."

"Oh," she said. She appeared mostly confused by this - but the slightest bit flushed. "Thanks."

"Yeah," Ned continued, feeling himself swell up with manly bravado. "I was thinking, maybe after all this-"

"Shh!" Brelyna suddenly cut him off, holding up a finger to her lips. For a moment, Ned figured he had already blown it, and she was begging him to never speak to her again - but then he noticed her pointing further up the tunnel system. He made his way past her, and squinted to try and better see through the darkness that his orb of light couldn't reach.

About fifty feet ahead of them, the tunnel opened up into a wide cavern, caked in snow. A narrow and very old looking stone bridge spanned across it, with a ancient Nordic door on the other side. Shambling about on the bridge with a crude blade clutched in one hand was an animated skeleton. It had not appeared to notice them.

"Ah, that's nothing," Ned said. "I'll take care of it."

"You're sure?" Brelyna asked, looking a bit worried.

"Pssh, trust me. I've created the perfect spell for dealing with undead," he lied without skipping a beat, and pulled out J'zargo's spell scroll. Looking over it for the first time, it appeared to be a touch spell - he just had to cast it on himself, tap the skeleton on the shoulder, and poof, pile of bone meal.

"You created a spell?" Brelyna said incredulously, quirking an eyebrow in disbelief.

"What can I say, I'm an impressive guy," Ned said with a shrug, grinning cockily. "Be right back."

He cast the spell on himself, strolled forward onto the bridge casually, and offered a mocking salute to the skeleton.

"G'day, sir," he said.

The skeleton didn't really say anything, but sort of made a dusty groan and lifted its sword.

Ned glanced back at Brelyna one more time, his face still plastered with an expression of utmost confidence. He raised a single finger into the air, and brought it down on the skeleton's shoulder.

He woke up coughing and spluttering, his entire body wracked with pain. It was dark again, his orb of light having extinguished. His skin felt badly scorched, and his back ached. He realized he was on cold, damp dirt, rather than the stone that the bridge had been made out of.

For a moment he really wished S'shani had in fact been there to heal him, but he recalled a basic healing spell that he cast on himself, taking away a fraction of the pain, but leaving the majority of it to continue running through his body with reckless abandon. Then he threw up another spell of magelight, illuminating enough of the cavern to confirm that he had apparently fallen off the bridge and crashed into the ground below. A few scorched bones had clattered down around him. There was no sign of Brelyna.

"J'zargo," he growled through gritted teeth as he pushed himself up. That stupid Khajiit had always been a pain in the ass, but he had never outright attempted to kill him before. Having never really met any other Khajiit aside from him before S'shani entered his life, he had just sort of assumed that being a pain in the ass was their way of being friendly. Then another thought struck him.

Was this J'zargo's doing? Could it possibly have been S'shani?

S'shani knew that Ned knew that S'shani was Dragonborn - a fact that he apparently didn't want anyone knowing. What if he was using J'zargo to try and 'rub him out,' as he was pretty sure the terminology went?

He shook his head. No, that was stupid. It was probably just meant to be a practical joke, or J'zargo was genuinely terrible at making spells. Probably. Right?

Realizing he wasn't going to get to the bottom of this standing at the bottom of a cave, he began to look around for a way out. Walking towards the walls, the orbiting light illuminated a small passageway amidst the stone. He hunched over and began to walk through it until it slowly widened once more, this time into a circular room about the size of his dorm.

In the middle of it, a dark and twisted hand was reaching out of the floor. His heart jumped as he saw it, before he realized it was just a gauntlet placed atop a pedestal. Still, it was eerie - black and red, with sharp claws instead of fingers. The room was otherwise empty except for a table, holding up nothing but a single sheet of paper, neatly folded in half. Skirting around the room, for some reason reluctant to take his eyes off the gauntlet, he made his way to the table and picked up the paper.

It read,

"The missing students were found in the Midden this morning. Dead, as expected. None of us bothered keeping a detect life charm for the search at this point.

The bodies were found together, each suffering the same deformities; peeled and bubbling skin on the arms and face. Conjurer's burn, as it's commonly referred to around the College. There's little doubt they were attempting a summoning ritual well beyond their capabilities.

The relic nearby put any doubt in this theory to rest. I admit that I've never seen one like it - a large, segmented sculpture of a gauntlet, the Daedric sigil 'O' emblazoned upon the palm. Attempts to move it were in vain. I must show it to Archmage Sedoth during his upcoming visit. Perhaps he will know more.

While we couldn't move the relic, I was able to pry four "rings" from it. I'm sure there's a connection between them and the ritual the students were attempting.

I'll store these in the Arcanaeum until we can consult with a conjuration master to learn more."

He glanced up at the gauntlet once more. First, fear bubbled up in his stomach, fear that the hand was somehow going to come to life and kill him painfully, as described by the letter. Then, a moment later, he wasn't afraid anymore. He was suddenly very, very happy. He knew what to do.

Half an hour later, Brelyna was making her way back to the cavern where she had last seen Ned. She had looked all over for a way to get down into the area below, where Ned had disappeared after being engulfed by a fiery explosion. She had been so frantic and worried that she had forgotten their original mission - until she found herself beckoned by a disembodied voice towards a glowing door. Now with the information they had needed, she was heading back up to the College in search of assistance scouring the Midden for Ned.

She could see the bridge ahead of her, when suddenly there was the sound of rocks grinding against each other, and a hidden door, expertly concealed into the solid rock wall, slid open and Ned stumbled out, scorched and bleeding, but looking oddly pleased with himself.

"Ned! Thank goodness," she said, rushing over to him. Ned didn't seem to notice her at first, then smiled.

"Whew, about time," he said. "Sorry about that. Any luck finding the Auditor of Douglas?"

"Augur of Dunlain, and yes," Brelyna said, wrapping an arm around him. "I'll tell you how that went later, though, for now you look like you need healing immediately. I'll take you right to S'shani."

"Yes," Ned said, nodding in agreement. "I think that perhaps seeing S'shani is a good idea."

Though he was feeling quite chipper, Ned was in rather bad shape, and kept slumping and falling in and out of consciousness as Brelyna half carried and half pushed him out of the tunnels and back up the ladder into the college.

"Y'know, I meant what I said," he muttered at one point, as fresh blood began to drip out of a cut on his forehead. "You look good. Really good."

"And you look like someone who exploded and fell off a cliff," Brelyna responded. "It's going to be alright. Okay?"

"Heheheheheheh."

Brelyna pushed open the door to the dorm rooms, where S'shani and J'zargo were playing a game of cards. They both stood up when they saw her and Ned, and as Brelyna threw the battered Bosmer onto his bed, S'shani rushed to his side, and immediately began applying his restoration magic.

Waves of relief washed over Ned, and he soon felt the fog in his head clear up, allowing his thoughts to flow more freely. He sat up in bed, nodding at S'shani.

"Thanks," he said, keeping his gaze averted. He wanted to remain cold and aloof to the Khajiit, though it was a bit difficult to hate the man who had just healed him so effectively.

"Of course, friend," S'shani responded. "I am sorry I was not there. I should have insisted. It would have been the least I could do to repay you for all your kindnesses."

"It's fine, really," Ned muttered. He looked towards J'zargo, who also appeared genuinely concerned. He was looking around a bit awkwardly, before speaking up.

"J'zargo fears he knows what happened...it was his spell, wasn't it?" he asked. Ned nodded.

"Yeah. Nearly killed me. Great magic, there, buddy. When you're done perfecting your Bosmer killing spell, maybe you can really get to work on the Undead one."

J'zargo rushed over, and grasped Ned by the shoulders. "J'zargo sincerely did not wish for this to happen. J'zargo knows he and Nedhelfin do not always get along so well, but we care for him as a friend. We will make this up to you, yes?"

"Sure, okay, I believe you," Ned said, and strangely enough, he did. J'zargo smiled, and released him. Ned looked from him, to S'shani, then over to Brelyna, who appeared to have been gazing at him rather affectionately. He made a mental note that apparently getting severely wounded was a good way to make people like you.

"Well, do you want to know what the Augur said?" Brelyna asked, stepping forward. Ned settled himself comfortably against his pillows, and nodded.

"Yeah, I kinda forgot that was a thing we were supposed to be doing, sorry," he responded. "Glad you found him though. So, what's the scoop?"

"You know about the Synod, right?" Brelyna said.

The effect was instantaneous. S'shani perceptly straightened up, colour draining from his cheeks. There was the slightest intake of breath. The world felt as close to the precipice of destruction as it had right before Ned had seen S'shani use his strange shouting power, back in Fellglow Keep.

And then it was good. S'shani appeared calm and relaxed once more. No one but Ned seemed to have noticed.

"...Yeah, I know of them," he finally said, realizing Brelyna was watching him for any sort of confirmation. "What about them?"

"They're planning something," she went on. "Something big. And somehow the Eye factors into all of it. I'm not sure how, but I have a feeling we'll find out soon."

"Oh yeah?" Ned asked, his eyes slowly moving back towards S'shani. He and J'zargo were listening to Brelyna with earnest, but not over-zealous, attention.

"Yeah," she said. "The Synod are in Skyrim. They're after the Eye."

"What do you mean, 'after?'" Ned asked. "What, they're gonna storm the walls, put it into a wagon, and cart it out the front gate?"

"I don't know. Maybe." Brelyna brought a hand to her chin, looking thoughtful and concerned for a moment. "I don't think they've ever been outright hostile to Winterhold before, but it's common knowledge that they're gung-ho about 'protecting' magic from those who can't handle it."

"They're a bunch of pricks," Ned said. He had been bitter towards the Synod ever since childhood, back when he had held dreams of being a great wizard, dreams that had been crushed by the elitist Synod order. "As if magic is really that dangerous."

"The only reason we're here now instead of alerting the arch-mage is because you blew yourself up earlier," Brelyna reminded him.

"Yeah, but magic healed me, so it all cancels out," Ned said with a shrug. "I'm fine now. We should go let him know."

Ned hopped out of bed, causing S'shani to stand up and eye him concernedly. "You are sure you are feeling alright now?"

"Never better," Ned said, cracking his knuckles. He motioned for Brelyna to follow him and started to head towards the door. He half expected S'shani to come as well, but he appeared to be holding back. Strange.

Ned and Brelyna made their way out into the courtyard, where, like the majority of the time, it was cold and lightly snowing. They were almost to the building where the arch-mage made his residence, when suddenly Ned clutched his chest and groaned.

"Aaahhh," he said, doubling over. "Sorry, still hurting a bit actually..."

"Aw, geez," Brelyna said, putting a hand on his shoulder. "You should go get some more rest. Need help getting back to the dorms?"

"No, no," Ned said, waving her off. "I'll be fine. You go ahead. Give the arch-mage my regards, etcetera."

Brelyna cast him one more uncertain look, then turned to head back towards the arch-mage's quarters. Ned made a show of stumbling back towards the dorms, in case she shot another glance his way, but as soon as she had disappeared behind the wide stone doors, he straightened up, and bolted for the Arcanaeum.

He once more made his way up the stairs, and - once more - hoped that gro-Shub would not be present. As he reached the top, however, he spotted the Orc sitting behind his desk, reading glasses perched on his nose, a book open in front of him. The old man had startlingly impressive senses, and perked up as Ned attempted to tip-toe his way into the library. He grunted - his version of a smile and wave - and closed the book.

"Nedhelfin," he said. "What brings you up here?"

Ned wracked his brain for an appropriate excuse, before finally settling on, "Uh, book. A book. I'm looking for a book."

"Which book would that be?" gro-Shub asked, leaning back in his chair.

Ned scanned the room quickly, and spotted a shelf high off the ground on the other side of the room. He pointed towards it. "I'm pretty sure it's, uh, in there."

Gro-Shub quirked a bushy gray eyebrow. "That's the section on Falmer mating habits."

Ned didn't bat an eye. "Yes," he said, stone-faced.

"Well...learning is learning, I guess," gro-Shub responded. "I'll need to grab a stepladder...not gonna go flinging my precious books around with magic..." he wandered off towards that side of the room, mumbling to himself about kids these days and their strange fetishes.

His heart pounding, he rushed behind gro-Shub's desk while the Orc wasn't looking. This was his one shot. If the librarian looked around and saw him, he would be expelled in a heartbeat - if he still HAD a heartbeat when gro-Shub was done with him

He reached into his robes and pulled out two small pins which he had, in the past, used as lock-picks in a pinch. He inserted them into the lock keeping the door to gro-Shub's desk drawer shut. His palms were sweating profusely as he twisted them around. He tried to keep the nervous shakes down so as not to fumble, and for a moment or two, felt certain that the picks would snap in the lock. Then he heard a faint click, and immediately slid the drawer open as quietly as he could.

Glancing up, he saw gro-Shub standing atop the footstool, balancing precariously as he reached for one of the books up on the top shelf. Ned looked back down, and saw all sorts of assorted knick-knacks scattered about. Some would call it junk, but he was sure the old Orc considered it treasure. He moved a few things around, until he saw a small pouch. He grabbed it, opened it, and peeked inside. There were four rings, each a slightly different colour. He stowed the pouch inside his robes, slid the door shut, and straightened up just as gro-Shub, back on the floor, turned around to start walking towards him.

"Got it right here," he said. "Try not to befoul it too much. And goodness sakes, boy, towel off. You're all sweaty."

Ned took the book, muttered a thanks, and walked out of the room as briskly as he could. He didn't slow down on his descent down the steps, and as he entered the main courtyard, he crashed directly into Savos Aren, who had been standing there talking to Brelyna Maryon.

"Oof!" the arch-mage cried, turning around to see who had accosted him. "Nedhelfin! Goodness, are you alright? You look as if you've seen a ghost."

He offered a hand to the Bosmer, who had fallen on his ass. Ned muttered another thanks, and accepted the help back up onto his feet.

"Ned? I thought you had gone back to the dorms," Brelyna said, looking at him curiously.

"I, uh, decided to check up on gro-Shub, update him on all this," Ned said. He noticed Brelyna was now staring at the cover of "Falmer Mating Rituals: A Shot in the Dark," and hastily added, "he gave me this book for some reason, I think the old man is going senile. It's sad, really."

"Well, er, that aside," Aren said, hastily changing the subject. "Brelyna has filled me in on everything that transpired within the Midden, including the warning about the Synod. We have always been able to exist in relative harmony in the past, so I have decided to send a small delegation to the camp they have set up in Skyrim, in the hopes of peaceably figuring out what it is they want."

"Ah," Ned said, already recognizing where this is going. "So, when do we head out?"

He noticed Brelyna flush a dark red and avert her gaze. Aren also looked a tad awkward. "Actually, Miss Maryon has informed me about your injuries sustained in the Midden, and has recommended to me that you not accompany her on this journey. She will be going with J'zargo, instead."

And that was that. Years of trying to remain out of sight had left the arch-mage believing him to be reasonably competent, if a bit bland. But now he was out of the man's good graces; he was a dope, a liability. He stuttered for a moment, trying to regain his composure, before saying, "Ah. Okay, yeah. That's cool."

"Good. You should get some rest, my boy, you do look incredibly pale." The arch-mage offered him a faint smile. "Now, I have other matters to attend to. Good luck, Brelyna."

Brelyna muttered a meek, "thank you, sir," as the arch-mage walked past her. She looked at Ned, still blushing. Ned glared at her, not even attempting to hide his fury. "Ned, I'm sorry," she said. "I was just worried. It could be really dangerous, and I don't want you to get hurt."

"So that's all I am," Ned said. "A helpless little animal that you need to protect."

"Ned, I care about you-"

"Save it," he snapped, and stormed off, leaving her standing alone in the cold, silently sobbing.

His brain swarmed with powerful and dark emotions. Jealousy, betrayal, anger, shame - all vying for attention to inform him what a despicable, worthless piece of crap he was. He threw the doors to the dorm rooms open so violently that several students peeked their heads out of their rooms to see what the commotion was.

"Nedhelfin? What is the matter?" S'shani asked, making his way over to him.

Ned gazed at him, and for a moment he feared all his emotions would overflow, exploding onto the Khajiit. He took a few deep breaths, however, and tried to look calm.

"S'shani," he said. "Undead. You hate Undead, right?"

"Of course," S'shani said with a nod. "They are a blight upon the world. But what-"

"Then you need to follow me," Ned said, quickly cutting him off. "Come on!"

He ran back out of the dorm rooms, and though he did not look behind him, he could tell that S'shani followed, deeply shaken and alarmed. He made a bee-line for the Hall of Countenance, pushed the doors aside without slowing down, and went right over to the trap door down to the Midden. He threw it open, grabbed the ladder, and slid down into the darkness, threw up his magelight spell, and began to make his way down the tunnel. S'shani's footsteps echoed behind him.

"Is someone hurt?" the Khajiit finally asked, his voice echoing throughout the tunnels.

"Just come on," Ned grunted, dodging the question. They made their way across the stone bridge, still littered with a few charred bones. Thankfully, the secret tunnel Ned had found was still open, and he hooked a sudden left, disappearing into the wall. He bent over as the pathway began to shorten and narrow, finally tumbling out of the other end, S'shani on his tail. He picked up the pace, trying to remember as best he could which direction to head in the murky darkness.

"Just a little further," he called out to S'shani. He was pretty sure anyway. Light seemed to be shining from further ahead, and a fresh, cold wind was blowing into the caverns. He remembered this from his search for a way back up to the surface earlier in the day; the tunnels briefly opened up into the open air, the cave face sitting precariously on the side of a cliff. The way back underneath the bridge was on the other side.

Finally, after minutes of tense silence, the two were making their way back into the final tunnel that led to the strange circular room beneath the college. The black and red gauntlet remained on its pedestal, continuing to give off an eerie aura that sent chills up Ned's spine. He slowly walked over to it.

"What is that?" S'shani asked. "Ned, what is going on?"

Ned did not answer, and kept his gaze away from the Khajiit. He reached into his robes and pulled out the pouch he had stolen from the Arcanaeum. He loosened the top, and upended it into his open left palm. The four rings glinted in the darkness. Ned grabbed the first one, and slid it onto one of the fingers of the outstretched hand.

"Nedhelfin? What are you doing?"

He carefully placed the second ring.

"This does not strike me as a good idea, Ned!"

On went the third ring.

"Stop it! Why are you doing this?" S'shani cried.

"Will you stop me?" Ned asked, finally turning to glare at him. The Khajiit faltered.

"I...what?"

Without another word, Ned turned back around, and put the last ring onto the gauntlet.

The fingers curled in on themselves, turning the open palm into a closed fist. He had to admit that was a bit disconcerting.

Then the air around them warped, and Ned felt as if space itself was being displaced. Suddenly, where no one had been standing previously, a third man was standing.

He looked as if he may have been a living humanoid, once; perhaps a Dunmer, to judge by his complexion, or a Redguard, to go by his clothing. Regardless, he was certainly something different altogether now. His skin was a pale black, and curved horns protruded from the top of his head, one of them chipped at the tip. He was wearing loose clothing, and had two long, curved swords sheathed at each hip.

"Nedhelfin...what have you done?" S'shani said quietly.

"Aaaahhhh," the figure said, his voice cutting right through to the soul, reverberating off itself. It was deep to the point of making Ned's toes curl. He did not appear particularly murderous or angry; just amused, if a bit nonplussed. "Once more I find myself in this accursed room, accosted by two young fools. It seems every few decades a few troublesome youth just have to come wrench me back to the mortal plane for some fool reason or other. It does not, generally, end well for them."

Ned backed up a few steps, casting a glance at S'shani. He would have to use his powers to take this entity down. He'd have to. Right?

"Yet I grow bored of only getting to kill an ever sparser amount of people, and I long for a change in scenery," the entity went on. "So perhaps, instead of flaying the flesh from your bones, I will offer you a bargain, that would enable you to survive an encounter with Velehk Sain, dreaded pirate king of the Abacean. A rare occasion indeed."

"I do not know what thrall has been put on you, that you would summon this demon, Nedhelfin," S'shani hissed, "but you must not agree to his bargain. It would be a crime of horrific magnitude."

"What are your terms?" Ned asked. He began to brace his body as best he could. If he were the one S'shani would have to use his powers on, so be it - hopefully he would be able to survive it.

"You release me from the bind that holds me here - and in exchange, I'll let you in on some of the great material wealth I accrued in life. Is this an acceptable deal?" A sneer curled up on the lips of the creature.

Glancing once more at S'shani to see if he was about to make a move, Ned said, "deal. How do I release you?"

Still S'shani did nothing.

"It is, in fact, extremely simple," Sain said. "All I require is for a mortal - that's you - to say, 'Velehk Sain, I release you.' Can you do that?"

Ned closed his eyes. This was it. In a moment he was either going to be dead, grievously wounded, or perfectly okay, but having just released a demonic mass murderer back into the world. He silently moved his lips a few times, before finally uttering the phrase.

"Velehk Sain..."

"NO!" S'shani screamed, but still no wave of dragonbreath crashed into him.

"I release you."

Sain stepped forward. He lifted his arms, and looked at them in wonder. In a flash, his scimitars were in his hands, and he was swinging them through the air with glee. Ned felt for sure he was going to renege on the agreement, but then Sain sheathed both blades, and smiled. He lifted his hand, and pointed a finger towards the table in the room, where a sheet of paper appeared.

"A map to my treasure," he said. "I hope it was worth it."

And then he was gone, as if he had never been.

"Nedhelfin, I pray for your soul," S'shani said. "I am unable to fathom what compelled you to do that-"

"Why didn't you stop me!" Ned screamed.

"What?" S'shani replied. "You are going to blame me for your misdeed, on the grounds that I did not stop you? How was I to do such a thing?"

"By shouting at me!" Ned yelled. "Fus ro dah! I looked it up, I know what that means! You could've incapacitated me! Damn it, you probably could've taken on Velehk Sain himself! Why in the name of every single god-damned God didn't you?"

S'shani averted his gaze. "I...I still do not know...what you're talking about."

Ned's mind was racing once more. What had he done? Oh, Gods, what had he done?

And then, perfectly simple, it hit him. If Sain wasn't interested in fighting S'shani into an act of desperation, he would. Without warning, he clenched his fist, forming a magical spear of ice to materialize within it, and with all his might, he chucked it at S'shani.

The Khajiit's reflexes continued to be lightning fast. He brought up his right arm, absorbing the blow with sheer force of might.

"And now you attack me yourself? Please do not make me take up arms against you, Nedhelfin, after I have grown to consider you a friend," he growled.

"You either fight me, or you die," Ned said in his most threatening voice, as he threw both hands in front of him and shot out a blast of frost, engulfing the Khajiit and the rest of the room in icy fog. He thought he had gained the upper hand, when through the mist came a fist, which connected powerfully with Ned's gut. He doubled over, but knew he couldn't give up so easily. He stumbled to the tunnel out, formed another ice spear, and threw it over his shoulder.

This one connected with S'shani's chest, causing him to stumble in his pursuit. He began to bleed lightly from a tear in his shirt, but quickly recovered, and began to run towards Ned, who panicked and began to flee down the tunnel, flinging ice behind him as he went. Most shattered harmlessly into the stone walls of the tunnel, but a few hit their target, either cutting up S'shani's hands and arms as he deflected them, or colliding with a softer spot.

The natural cold air of Skyrim began to engulf both of them as they fought their way into the cavern with the open wall. Ned had almost made his way across to the other side, when S'shani made a running leap, and tackled him to the ground, pinning his arms carefully to the side.

"Explain yourself, Nedhelfin!" he yelled. "Why are you doing this to me?"

"Just admit it! Admit you're the Dragonborn!" Ned yelled back, and brought up a leg to kick the Khajiit where it counted. As S'shani fell back, Ned pushed himself up, and began to prepare the most powerful offensive spell he could conjure; a ball of flame meant to concuss and immolate an opponent. He conjured it with his right hand, and brought it up over his head to fling at S'shani.

S'shani anticipated it, and brought up a magical shield, something Ned was not aware he could do; the fireball bounced off of it, flew backwards, and hit Ned in the chest. He flew backwards, lost his footing, and felt himself free-falling.

The wall of the cliff raced in front of him. This was it. He was dead. It had finally happened. He saw a younger version of himself back in Cyrodiil, where he had been born, watching a group of Synod walk through the port town of Anvil on official business. He looked on in awe at their matching robes and hoods, making them look powerful and mysterious.

He saw a slightly older, awkward teenage version of himself, screaming at his father, who screamed back. Words were said that could never be forgiven, and Ned left, heading north.

He saw other parts of his life flash before his eyes, each instance more depressing and pointless then the last. Finally he saw a cliff wall race past him, and realized he was seeing the final moment of his life now.

Then, oddly enough, he saw a figure plummeting down through the air above him, reality seeming to bend around him.

"WULD NAH KEST!"

S'shani wrapped his arms around Ned, and together they plummeted towards the ground.

"FEIM ZII GRON!"

And suddenly they were feathers, blowing on the wind. They hit the ground, but it was as if they had collapsed onto a bag full of sugar. S'shani rolled to the side, releasing Ned. They both panted, equally amazed at the fact that they were still alive.

Ned slowly pushed himself up out of the snow, feeling his body returning to a normal state of adherence with the laws of physics. The coast was nearby; he could hear the soothing sounds of the ocean crashing against the beach, and horkers calling out to each other.

But, most predominately, he heard S'shani crying.

"I'm the Dragonborn," he said through clenched teeth, hands on his head, as he wept into the ground. "I'm the Dragonborn..."

Ned figured he ought to have felt happy about this. He had been right. Yet he could not recall a time where he had ever felt worse.

He collapsed backwards into the snow, and lay there motionless, next to the weeping Dragonborn.


	4. Release

(( Thanks again for all the awesome reviews, guys! Hope you enjoy the penultimate chapter. ))

Several miles west from where Nedhelfin and S'shani were laying comatose in the sand, in the port town of Dawnstar, there was a faint splash off the side of one of the smaller trading vessels. Several more followed after it. Though no one was nearby to notice or care, if they had chosen to make an inspection, they would've found several people that had recently become corpses thanks to perfectly surgical slits across their throats.

Rigging was hauled and sails were erected; it wasn't an ideal ship for one person, but Velehk Sain was no mere mortal. In time, he'd get a crew and a bigger ship, but after decades of imprisonment, one had to start somewhere.

He looked over the horizon, the setting sun glinting off of his perfectly black eyes. He didn't often feel emotions, but the cold breeze and drops of salt water brushing past his ashen face caused him to grin, ever so slightly. He was back in business.

The Pirate King of the Abecean always seemed to have supernaturally good luck when it came to weather and winds, and he was soon making good progress further west, the desolate no-man's-land of Skyrim steadily fading from view. He had spent his journey so far above deck, where it was becoming increasingly frigid as the sun disappeared beneath the edge of the sea, and was about to make his way downstairs when he heard a noise. It sounded an awful lot as if someone else was moving about on his ship, and he had felt fairly confident that he had emptied it of all previous occupants before leaving the port. Had a pesky sailor stowed away, hoping to surprise him when his guard was down? Oh, the poor fool.

He pushed open the creaking wooden door that led to the galley below, and drew both of his scimitars. He would toy with this one; see if he was worthy of being broken into the first member of his new crew. If not, he would provide some entertainment on the trip, at the very least.

As he crept through the bowels of the ship, the entire vessel creaking and groaning around him with every sloshing wave, he suddenly felt himself frozen in place. Rage overwhelmed him; he knew this sensation all too well. Somebody was casting a binding spell on him! He struggled to move, to swing his arms wildly in hopes of hitting his target, but he could not. All he could do was let out a loud string of curses and threats.

"Now, now, Mr. Sain," came a voice from ahead, and a robed Imperial walked towards him, holding a spell scroll before him. "No need for such language. I have no intention of keeping you here - I just needed to make sure you didn't lop my head off before I was able to propose a business partnership."

"What makes you think I would work for the likes of you?" Velehk snarled. He would dismember this one until he was unrecognizable the moment he was freed.

"Well, there are a few reasons," the mage said, beginning to pace back and forth in front of the frozen pirate. "The first being that I could leave you banished here, and then burn the ship to the ground. You would be doomed to spend another eternity inside this wreckage, unlikely ever to be found. But, I have learned that fear is often not the best motivator - and besides, I wouldn't be specifically trying to hire you if I didn't believe you capable of escaping such a scenario, hunting me down, and exacting revenge.

"The second reason is because I know you. You're a figure from the history books, Mr. Sain, a figure always accompanied by gruesome death and unspeakable fear. I know what you like: death, destruction, and power. I can offer you the ability to reap death, harvest destruction, and possess power that no entity has held in centuries. All you have to do is not kill me. Does that seem fair?"

Velehk couldn't help but recognize a confidence in the man's words. He could've been mad, but he certainly believed what he was saying. And the offer intrigued Velehk, to say the least.

"I believe I could be convinced to not kill you," he said. "Explain yourself."

The Imperial lowered his hood, revealing a pleasant if somewhat condescending smile, a neatly trimmed beard, and a deep series of scars running down his left cheek. "To start, you must kill one particular person. Then, you may kill more. Velehk Sain, I release you."

And now we move even further away - dozens upon dozens of miles, and years into the past, though not many. A young Khajiit, in his middle teen years, was laying on a cold stone slab. He was afraid. People kept telling him not to be afraid, but the fact that they kept having to bring it up just made him even more afraid.

He had not been taken away from his family, because he had no family to be taken away from. He was not even necessarily here against his will - he knew he could leave at any time, and yet he did not. He wanted to believe he was doing something good by being here, that he was helping a cause that he did not understand.

There was a grating noise, as the large stone door to his holding cell - or 'bedroom,' if you were feeling generous - was opened, and light poured in to the otherwise pitch black room.

"S'shani?" a male voice said, trying to sound friendly and approachable. "It's time."

S'shani pushed himself off the slab, and stood up, shivering slightly as his bare feet hit the cold stone floor, which was always slightly damp for some reason. He walked out of the room, clothed in nothing but a very plain and tattered brown robe. The man beckoning him was much more elaborately dressed, his gold and black robes making him look powerful and mysterious. His hood was down, and he smiled.

"Are you feeling lucky today, S'shani?" he asked. The Khajiit simply shrugged, not making direct eye contact. The man scowled, but waved it off. He began to walk down the musky corridor, and S'shani followed, his head down.

At the end of the corridor, the underground complex opened up into a vast chamber. The sight would be an amazing one to behold for someone first laying eyes upon it; for S'shani, it made a hollow feeling in his stomach.

The entire room, and perhaps the entire underground area, appeared to be built around a massive bronze sphere in the center of the chamber. It appeared to be made out of several different rotating parts, all wrapping around each other. At the top were three glass lenses, perfectly equidistant from each other. An arch, resembling a large handle, extended above that, with another jumble of lenses hooked up to convoluted rotating device sitting in the center. Various ramps and staircases wound around the entirety of the device, allowing it to be intimately inspected from every angle.

Another man, dressed in the same gold and black robes as the first, was in a far corner, intently poring over several open books laid out on a table before him. His hood was up, but S'shani instantly recognized him as the man who always made him feel especially nervous. He gulped, and continued following the first man over to him.

"Decimius," he said, and the hooded man jerked upright, spinning around to face them.

"He knows the procedure by now, Plinius, he doesn't need my help," Decimius growled, staring down at S'shani with barely veiled contempt.

"Did you find anything useful in Anvil?" Plinius asked, trying to ignore this outburst.

"Of course not," Decimius shot back. "Bunch of slack-jawed fools. If they had any ancient tomes on the matter, they'd probably be using it as a drink coaster, too dumb to read it." He paused for a moment, and chuckled. "There was one ugly Bosmer child staring at us as if he'd never seen anything so grand in his life. Sad, really."

He turned to S'shani, and fixed the child with a cold glare. "I did pick up something, however, that might help our friend here get motivated, if he is still unable to get the results we desire."

Plinius looked a bit concerned by this, placing a hand on S'shani's shoulder. "I'm sure that won't be necessary, Decimius. Will it, S'shani?"

Now both were looking at him intently. Still keeping his gaze down, he shook his head.

"Right. Well, by all means, don't keep us waiting," Decimius said with a scowl, and turned back to his books. S'shani could tell the man had no confidence in his abilities. He was not particularly confident himself - he had tried every day for weeks, to no avail. Yet he knew he could do it if he just tried hard enough. Then the men would be happy and he could continue living his life.

He slowly began to ascend one of the curling staircases, until he was at the highest point in the room, looking down upon the massive bronze sphere. He cleared his throat, and spoke the words that reverberated effortlessly through his memory.

"Aak hin bonaar aar wah fin rot," he said, his voice cracking from lack of use. "Qolaas fin daal do dov."

He looked down at the device, which continued to do absolutely nothing. He sighed, and looked back towards the two adults. Plinius tried to give him a polite smile, though the disappointment was obvious in his eyes.

Decimius slammed one of the books shut, and began to walk up the stairs towards S'shani.

"I hear you speaking the words," he said slowly, in a tone that made the young Khajiit back up nervously. "Enunciated perfectly, with great clarity and ease. Yet you lack the fire in your heart. Anyone can hear sounds and mimic them back, but that does not mean they speak anything but utter gibberish! You must feel the words! You must not simply speak them; they must speak back!"

"I am trying," S'shani whimpered, before Decimius grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and flung him down the stairs. Plinius ran forward to help him, but Decimius held up a hand, causing him to halt nervously in his tracks. Slowly, Decimius descended after S'shani, who was laying in a heap on the dusty floor.

S'shani tensed, expecting a kick while he was down, but Decimius walked right past him towards another closed door on the other side of the cavern. He opened it, and ushered in three more men wearing the same black and gold robes - each one tightly holding onto a person wearing plain civilian clothing, hands bound behind their backs, and mouths gagged. One man and one woman in their middle years, and one boy a little younger than S'shani. They all had an intense fear in their eyes.

Decimius muttered a few words, and a conjured dagger appeared in his hand. He held it up to the man's neck, who began to struggle futilely.

"Say the words," Decimius said, his tone of voice the same as before. "Say them."

S'shani, still on the ground, began to whimper, but spoke the words as best he could. "Aak hin b-bonaar, aar w-w-" his fear was causing his whole body to shake, and in turn creating a slight stutter.

Decimius sighed, and slit the man's throat. His lifeless body fell to the ground, aided by the agent holding him. Decimius took one step over, and placed the blade at the neck of the woman. "SAY THE WORDS."

"Aak hin bonaar aar wah f-f-fin rot!" S'shani screamed, tears streaming down his face. "Cholas, no, Qolaas..."

With another jerk of his arm, the woman fell down beside the man, their corpses slumped against each other. Decimius stepped over once more and knelt down so as to better hold the blade against the child's throat.

Pure, white rage boiled up inside S'shani. He wanted to shout, to shout correctly, but it would not happen. The words would not come. Perhaps everyone had been wrong; he was not special, he was just a stupid vagrant child incapable of saving these people.

No.

He leapt up, and charged at Decimius. The man scowled, but before he could bring the knife around, S'shani gripped his arm and bit into it, sinking his powerful teeth through the robes and into flesh. Decimius screamed and dropped the dagger; S'shani grabbed it, and slashed madly several times, seeing blood spray forth from beneath Decimius' hood, as the man fell backwards, clutching at his wounds. S'shani looked over to see Plinius charging towards him, a spell at the ready. S'shani panicked, dropped the dagger, and ran.

His head was a blur. He had no idea what was going to happen to him; would they kill him, or simply torture him as they continued to try and force the Dragon shouts out of him? He could still feel something uncontrollable boiling beneath the surface of his flesh. Those people had died, and it was his fault. His fault!

He had not been carted here against his will, and thankfully he recalled the way to the surface from the main cavern. Soon he could see daylight. He ran towards it as fast as he could, his body running on pure adrenaline. Cold gravel beneath his bare feet gave way to soft grass. The entrance to the complex was in the side of a hill, and a small town was below.

He heard shouts from behind him; several of the men had given chase. He slid down the hill towards the town, hoping to find somewhere he could seek shelter at least temporarily. He heard something whizzing behind him, however, and soon felt a scalding hot fire spell blast into the back of his head, sending him spiraling forward, tumbling over himself. He saw buildings whoosh past him as he collapsed into the town, and lost consciousness.

Nedhelfin stared out to sea, contemplating all he had heard. By the end of his tale, S'shani's voice was soft and weak, clearly pained by recalling these events. He wasn't sure what to say - sorry? There, there? Cheer up, li'l buddy?

"Wow," is what he ended up saying. Deciding this was a bit sparse, he added, "I feel like a huge ass now."

S'shani chuckled softly, though it sounded humourless. "That is not necessary. I understand your suspicion of me. I have been wary to speak of these events, for fear of agents of the Synod, who I know to still be searching for me. I was...lucky to have escaped them that day. It is clear to me now that they meant nothing but harm to the world, in a mad quest for personal power. I fear myself a dangerous weapon, were I to fall into their hands again."

"The Synod..." Ned mumbled, scratching his chin. "Somehow they're at the center of all this. They're in Skyrim, and they're after the Eye of Magnus. But why?"

"It cannot be for anything good, of this I am certain," S'shani said, standing up. "I have been selfish, and a fool, for keeping this information from you all. We must head back up to the College and inform them of what I know."

"Right," Ned said, standing up as well. He turned once more to look at the Khajiit, his brow furrowed. This was the big moment. To trust him, or not to trust him?

Ned held out his hand. S'shani took it, and they shook.

"No more lies," Ned said.

"No more lies," S'shani repeated.

Perhaps the soothing rhythm of the ocean at sunset was making him sappy, but in that moment Ned couldn't help but feel a genuine bond of brotherhood between himself and the Khajiit.

The trip back up the mountain towards Winterhold was steep and arduous, especially as Ned attempted to keep up with S'shani, who was in far better shape than him. As they neared the top, his lungs felt as if they were about to throw in the towel, and his calves were drafting up a formal declaration of secession. S'shani placed an arm around him, helping him keep his balance as they hobbled through the home stretch, running down the center of the town towards the entrance to the College.

Once again, Faralda was the mage on guard duty. The Altmer was inspecting her fingernails, while muttering to herself about constantly getting stuck on night watch. She glanced up as the two approached, and quirked an eyebrow.

"Nedhelfin? And...uh, new guy?" she asked, straightening herself as she faced them. "When did you leave?"

"We took the back exit," S'shani said, as Ned collapsed against a stone pillar, wheezing and gasping for breath.

"We have a back exit?" Faralda asked, but S'shani cut her off.

"Brelyna Maryon and J'zargo," he said, while Ned slumped onto the floor, coughing up a lung. "The arch-mage was going to send them to investigate a group of Synod that is in Skyrim. Have they left yet?"

"They left not twenty minutes ago," Faralda answered, looking between the two of them with growing concern. "Why, is something the matter?"

"Do you know where the Synod are located?" S'shani asked, even more sternly. "It is crucial that we catch up with them, before...seriously, Nedhelfin?"

"Sorry," Ned mumbled, pushing himself up off the ground where he had been rolling back and forth making horrible wheezing noises.

"...Before something horrible happens," S'shani concluded, the wind somewhat let out from beneath his sails.

"Ah...it was a Dwarven ruin," Faralda said, placing a hand to her forehead as she thought. "They all have such weird names. It was, like, Mixotl or something."

"Are you sure?" S'shani asked.

"Well, something like that...or was it Zoloft? I think it had a z in it."

"Mzulft?" Ned chimed in, as he dusted himself off. Both Faralda and S'shani turned to look at him, obviously taken aback. "What?" he said defensively. "I pay attention in SOME of my classes. Dwarven ruins are cool."

"You know where it is?" S'shani asked, hurrying over to him. Ned scrunched up his face in concentration.

"Well...generally. It's south-ish. But, I mean, it's not like many people come and go from Winterhold. If we get going now we should be able to follow their tracks," Ned said, brightly.

"Oh, that reminds me," Faralda added, "they took the horses you two brought back from Fellglow Keep."

Ned deflated. "Crap."

"Are there any stables in town we could purchase our own steeds from?" S'shani asked. Ned sighed and turned out his robe pockets, revealing nothing but lint, a few dried leaves, and J'zargo's defective flame scroll.

"Do YOU have any gold?" he asked. S'shani frowned, and shook his head.

This did not seem to deter the Khajiit, however, who began to move swiftly away from the College, grabbing Ned's arm to drag him along as he did so.

"So, what, we're going to follow after two galloping horses with a brisk jog?" Ned asked. "You may not have noticed earlier, but I'm not exactly in the physical condition necessary for a marathon, here."

"Yes," S'shani said, still dragging Ned towards the edge of the town.

"Wait, yes what? Yes we're doing it, or yes it's a stupid idea?"

"Both," S'shani said, as he finally slowed down, released Ned, and knelt into the snow. "Get on."

Ned opened his mouth slightly, taking a moment to formulate his response, which ended up being, "What?"

"Get on! We're swiftly failing to close distance with them!" S'shani snapped.

Ned realized that his life was already completely insane at this point, so he swallowed his pride and climbed onto the back of the Khajiit like a small child.

"So, what, you're just going to carry-" he began.

"WULD NAH KEST!"

It was faster than any horse he had ever been on. The world moved past in a blur; snow whipped against him, stinging his eyes, and he felt a hard thump against his forehead, which he figured was a now flattened bug. He clung onto S'shani for dear life, his legs wrapped around the Dragonborn's chest, arms folded underneath his shoulders.

Soon they were blasting out of the snowy climate, once more entering the somewhat more mellow county of Eastmarch. Ned couldn't even be sure if S'shani knew where he was heading; whether there were hoof-prints in the snow that the Khajiit was focusing on, or if he was simply heading 'generally south-ish,' it was all a blur to Ned. The city of Windhelm began to rise into view over the mountains, and S'shani slowed down as they finally connected with a stone road running west towards it.

"Is it possible they would've stopped for the night?" S'shani asked.

"If you're not going to be doing crazy Dragonborn speeds, mind putting me down? People are staring," Ned mumbled, as a passing trade caravan full of curious onlookers meandered by. S'shani slowed to a halt, and knelt down, allowing Ned to carefully step back onto the ground. "And how should I know?"

"When you and Brelyna traveled to Fellglow Keep, what was the protocol?" S'shani asked, as the two made their way towards Windhelm side-by-side.

"Well, A, we were on foot rather than horses, and B, I start to get really whiney if I haven't eaten in a few hours, so yeah, we stopped in Windhelm for the night. But she and J'zargo have horses, J'zargo is completely insane when it comes to doing things fast and recklessly, and I assume 'stop the evil mages from destroying the world' spurs one on a bit more urgently than 'go pick up some books for me.'"

"Then we must continue heading towards the ruins," S'shani said.

Ned's stomach growled. "Aww..."

They continued to follow the road until it forked south, away from Windhelm. Ned coughed awkwardly in the hopes of capturing S'shani's attention - which it did.

"Yes?" the Khajiit asked.

"I feel I should reiterate that I'm not entirely positive where this place is," the Bosmer explained. "Except that it probably isn't in the middle of the road with nice big signs pointing to it."

"Were you not trained in the art of wilderness tracking back in Valenwood?" S'shani asked. "Perhaps we could pick up the horses trails again."

"I've never even been to Valenwood, you racist," Ned groaned. "My dad was a sailor, and before you ask, no I can't map the damn stars or whatever nautical garbage they do to get around." He paused, and sniffed the air. "Wait a minute."

"What?" S'shani asked, looking at him hopefully.

Ned wandered off the main trail, S'shani following closely behind. About 100 paces east, in the tall grass, was a fresh pile of horse manure. Ned turned to S'shani, grinned, and tapped the side of his nose.

"Okay, maybe some tracking stuff comes naturally," he said, feeling a rare moment of pride for his heritage. "Here's hoping this was made by the right horse. Come on!"

They ran through the grass for several minutes, until they crested a hill that allowed them to survey a considerable distance. Ned squinted, night having fallen too thickly for him to be of much use, but S'shani pointed further southeast.

"There," he said. "Another old road, looks to be in disrepair. Perhaps it is connected to the ruin."

"I'll feel confident when we find more crap," Ned said, "but it's a start."

They leapt off the hill, sliding down to the plain below. S'shani was soon out-pacing Ned once more, but he did his best to keep up. Horrifying thoughts were starting to enter his head. What if the Synod had been openly hostile? What if they had captured, hurt or...killed them?

The last time he had seen Brelyna, he snapped at her, and stormed off angrily. He had been the biggest ass imaginable; if he never got a chance to apologize, to make things right...

"Nedhelfin!" S'shani hissed from several yards ahead. "I think we are at the right place."

Around the side of a mountain that had been blocking it from view, the sprawling ruins of Mzulft now lay before them. Crumbling archways and the remains of buildings dotted the tumultuous landscape, with ancient yet still functioning stairs winding upwards to the large bronze doors that led into the main complex. Ned and S'shani slowly made their way up, both glancing around at all angles in case of an ambush.

"I don't see anyone," Ned whispered. "You think they're inside?"

"It is our duty to find out," S'shani responded, as they stopped before the massive and imposing entryway. They turned to glance at each other one more time - each knowing this would be the perfect spot for a trap - and moved in unison to push the doors open.

Nothing happened; the area continued to be eerily quiet and lifeless. Letting out a sigh of relief, Ned followed S'shani down the first wide hallway, which sloped downwards towards another pair of bronze doors. If he hadn't been so nervous, he would've been amazed with the architecture; shining bronze pipes wound across the walls, pumping steam throughout the complex, no doubt powering ancient clockwork mechanisms. Very few people today seemed able to replicate the technology left behind by the Dwemer, though attempts to study and harvest it were common. Personally, Ned fantasized about a world where such technology enabled one to go to the bathroom indoors without having to constantly clean out a bucket.

They made their way past the second set of doors, but this time S'shani halted and held up a hand to stop Ned when they reached the other side. Ned strained his senses, and soon he too heard a faint shuffling sound from nearby.

"Someone is in here," S'shani mouthed. Ned nodded, and began to visualize a spell. If any Synod jerks tried to give him trouble, he'd show them a thing or two about magic, oh yes.

The two crept silently through the ill-lit ruin. The sound grew closer and closer, and was soon accompanied with a light humming. They were soon able to see around a corner, into an alcove that had been recently transformed into a living quarter. A few cots were set up, as well as several work-benches, where various bronze gears and tubing were in various states of dissection. At the far wall, with his back turned to them, was someone garbed in the black and gold robes that were all too familiar to both Ned and S'shani.

"Freeze!" Ned shouted. He hadn't actually prepared a spell, but he couldn't resist breaking the silence any longer. S'shani quickly followed his lead, and charged towards the mage, who was in the process of turning around. As soon as he was facing them, S'shani wrapped a hand around his neck, and thrust him backwards into the wall, rattling the shelves and knocking over several gadgets.

"A Dunmer woman and a Khajiit came through here earlier tonight!" S'shani snarled. "What have you done with them?"

For a moment, the Synod simply spluttered incoherently in shock, before finally he gasped, "S'shani?"

S'shani relaxed his grip, lowering the man back down to the floor. "Plinius?"

"Uh, whoa," Ned chimed in, stepping forwards. "You know this guy?"

S'shani did not completely release the Imperial, and kept a watchful eye on him. "He is one of the men who was studying me back in my youth," he explained. "I would recognize his face anywhere."

"And I, yours," Plinius responded, letting out a hacking cough. "If you wouldn't mind releasing my trachea, I'd be glad to explain what's going on."

"I will not hesitate to kill you if you give me any reason to," S'shani warned. He moved his arm back to his side.

"Oh, believe me," Plinius said, massaging his neck. "I know. The other Khajiit and his Dunmer lady-friend are safe. They're further inside the ruins with Decimius and the rest."

S'shani's eyes went wide, and the colour drained from his cheeks. He seemed physically stunned, as if he had just been punched in the side of the head. For a moment, Ned worried that he would pass out, but the Khajiit steeled himself, and leaned in closer to Plinius.

"Decimius is here?" he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"We uncovered another oculory here," Plinius explained. "We've been in the process of moving over all of our research from the old one. We believe that this one may be an 'alpha' model to the one in Cyrodiil's 'beta,' being closer to the heart of-"

S'shani cut him off, slamming his fist into the solid rock wall beside Plinius' head. Ned was taken aback by this; S'shani had always struck him as calm and in control. To see him so rattled and prone to losing his temper was deeply unsettling.

"I don't care about your gods-damned oculory," S'shani shouted, his voice now echoing throughout the ruins. "We are here for our friends. You will not stop us from going to them."

"Of course not," Plinius said, raising his hands up defensively. "Why would I stop you? Just follow the path down that way, there'll be more of our researchers along the way."

S'shani stepped away from Plinius, giving him one last suspicious glare for good measure, and stormed off towards where the mage had indicated. Ned watched Plinius as well, but he seemed more interested in simply turning back to inspecting the Dwemer devices. Feeling a bit awkward, Ned hustled after S'shani.

Could things really be this straight-forward? Were the Synod just pursuing research, and Brelyna and J'zargo had been politely invited to observe? This didn't seem to mesh with the story S'shani had told earlier - he had expected to find the Synod brutally tearing up the place, attacking anyone who approached. He hated to say it, but Plinius kind of seemed like a decent enough fellow.

They soon came across a greater concentration of Synod researchers; the gold sequencing on their robes gleamed in the dull torch-light, meshing well with how bronze everything was. Ned had to resist the urge to stuff his robe pockets with whatever he could get his hands on; bronze was a relatively sought-after metal, probably because the Dwemer had caked everything they could get their hands on with it.

S'shani was still rushing ahead, fists clenched at his side. Ned wondered if he should say something to him; he worried that the Khajiit was about to reach a boiling point, especially at the prospect of running into this Decimius bloke, who sounded like a nasty piece of work indeed. If things between the Synod and College had been amiable so far, all that could've been about to change.

When they came to a forking of pathways, S'shani turned to a trio of Synod researchers who were gathered around a large cylinder that was coming out of the ground, which curved at the top around a wide, circular opening.

"We are looking for Decimius, and the two members of our College who went with them," S'shani announced. It was clearly an order rather than a question. The researchers each jumped slightly, startled by the sudden intrusion on their intense investigation.

"Uh, Decimius is down that way, at the oculory," one of them said, giving the Khajiit and Bosmer a rather confused look. S'shani had already begun to head in that direction, when the mage added, "only had one other person with him though. Dunmer lady."

"I thought she was kinda cute," one of the others chimed in.

"Oi, you would, you weird-o," the first one retorted. "At least the other Elves don't look like corpses."

"Listen, I happen to find the deep blue to be a very exotic-"

"We're still here," Ned announced, waving a hand in the air.

"Oh, sorry," the first mage said, turning back to them and elbowing his companion in the ribs. "Not sure where your other friend went."

"I think I saw a Khajiit going with Bienne, something about wanting to see the deactivated Centurion," the third one piped up, scratching his ear with a quill. "That's down there a ways," he said, indicating a sloped path heading away from the oculory.

Ned moved towards S'shani for a group conference. He couldn't help but think that these Synod didn't seem particularly elite or even very bright - yet they were all Imperial. Funny, that.

"They separated Brelyna and J'zargo," Ned whispered. "That give you a bad feeling, too?"

"Indeed," S'shani said. "I believe it may be best if we split up as well. Both could need our assistance urgently, and by going after one, we may be condemning the other to death."

Ned gulped. He had been thinking the same thing, though he didn't like it. He slowly nodded, and said, "I'm going after Brelyna."

"No," S'shani said. "You do not know what Decimius is capable of! It is too dangerous."

"Then come save both our asses after you've got J'zargo," Ned snapped. "But I have to do this. Okay?"

S'shani looked as if he wanted to argue some more, but did not. He nodded, and clasped Ned on the shoulders.

"Please, Nedhelfin...be careful," he said.

Ned began to respond with something equally heartfelt and poignant, but was interrupted by a muffled yell as one of the Synod had apparently stuck his head into the tube opening, and needed to be yanked out by his comrades. Ned sighed, and turned to run towards the oculory. He could hear S'shani sprinting in the other direction.

He was on his own, no mythical dragon-blooded immensely strong versatile healer to back him up. He was about to charge into a complex filled with who knows how many Synod led by a deranged, power-hungry killer. To his own surprise, these thoughts didn't slow him down; instead, he thought of Brelyna, and his pace quickened. Even if he couldn't actually help in any efficient capacity, he had to try, right? That was the entire point.

Soon he saw artificial light reflecting from the end of the tunnel. Before he could see anything else, he could see the massive bronze sphere sitting in the center of a cavern, elegant stairways winding around it, smoothly carved out of granite. There was no way the Synod could've constructed these, especially not in such a short amount of time; whatever this thing was, it had been of great importance to the Dwemer.

He kept his mind focused on a spell, but was so nervous and anxious that he didn't even concoct a pun to go with it. He burst into the cavern, and looked around frantically. It appeared to be almost completely empty.

Then he heard a gush of flames from above him, and looked up; he could see a Synod, casting a flame spell! He could also see the edge of a frost spell being cast next to him, which must've been Brelyna fighting back! Ned let out a scream, and charged up the nearest flight of stairs, until he was on the top level with the other two.

Decimius and Brelyna turned to look at him; both appeared quite taken aback, and neither appeared to have suffered any combat damage. Ned's battle-cry faded into a confused whimper.

"Ned?" Brelyna asked.

"Uh," Ned said. "I'm here to...save...you?"

Decimius chuckled. "Friend of yours, Miss Maryon?"

"Colleague," Brelyna replied, averting her eyes from Ned.

Ned puffed out his chest, determined to press on with this. "I, uh, demand to know what's going on," he said, though he could tell he had lost the element of dashing heroism he had been going for.

"Ned," Brelyna groaned, letting out an annoyed sigh. "The Synod don't care about the Eye. They're here to help us with a bigger problem!"

Ned looked around, and glanced at Decimius, who was standing with his arms folded, offering a polite smile. Several deep scars ran across his left cheek.

"I wasn't aware we had any other problems?" Ned muttered. He felt he was supposed to have been the one with the element of surprise - how had the tables turned on him so quickly?

"Neither were we, which is why we needed the help," she said. She waved an arm towards the oculory. "Dragons are coming back to Skyrim, Ned. There've been reports of an attack just the other day; the town of Helgen, on the southern border, was entirely destroyed."

Ned felt as if he'd been punched in the gut. Dragons? But...that couldn't mean...

"Luckily, I've lead a team dedicated to researching just such a possibility for some time," Decimius explained, stepping closer to Ned. "The Dwemer maintained several sites dedicated to these devices. We uncovered one several years ago in Cyrodiil, and believed that, if properly attuned, it would display a map of dragon graves. Innately magical creatures, dragons don't die in a conventional sense, you see."

"Unless the soul is separated from the body," Ned muttered, his features going slack. "By another entity with dragon blood."

"Ah, a scholar after my own heart," Decimius said warmly, as Brelyna gave Ned a curious look. "Miss Maryon and I were attuning the device in an attempt to discern the dragon graves and reach them before any more rise again. Even a single dragon would be a weapon of unbelievable destruction." And here the corners of his mouth seemed to fold up in the slightest hint of a smile.

Ned shook his head. Everything had made so much sense a few minutes ago. But now, suddenly, dragons were a reality for the first time in centuries; that meant S'shani...

"Brelyna, we have to go," Ned said, and without thinking, added, "S'shani went after J'zargo, we'll meet up with them and-"

The reaction was nearly inhuman. Decimius' eyes widened, and he sprung towards Ned, grasping him by the shoulders and looming over him.

"S'shani?" he hissed. "S'shani is HERE?"

"Yes!" Ned shouted, throwing the man off of him. "Brelyna, let's go-"

"I suppose he told you about our history with each other?" Decimius asked, folding his arms once more. "And that would be why you're so quick to paint me as the villain here?"

"Pretty much," Ned said, becoming increasingly concerned with why Brelyna was still staring at him, standing by Decimius' side.

"I get the feeling that he may have left out some rather crucial details," Decimius said with a sigh. "Details that may put our relationship into an entirely new light."

Ned turned back to him, quirking his eyebrows in genuine curiosity. "What do you mean?"

After S'shani had slid down the hill and collapsed unconscious into the center of town all those years ago, he had not remained out for long. Moments later he felt strong hands jostling him awake, and looked up to see two members of the Synod that had caught up with him. Several curious onlookers had stopped nearby.

"What are you doing with that child?" a woman asked, as she was shoved away by one of the agents.

"Official Synod business, miss," he said. "None of your concern."

"Come on, you little runt," the other grunted, shoving S'shani ahead of him. "Decimius is going to have quite a few stern words for you..."

And then it happened. The tipping point was reached; S'shani could not go back. He would not go back. The primal emotions that had been steadily swelling within him this whole time could not be contained any longer; he felt bile rise into his throat, but he did not vomit, he screamed.

Thy Synod agents were not only knocked backwards - they were torn to shreds. Concrete on a nearby building began to crack, and slowly the roof collapsed in on itself, sliding sideways. Still the scream continued, and S'shani felt a furious burning as the world around him erupted in fire. He saw the woman who had been concerned for him engulfed in flames, her skin bubbling and sliding off of her. People came rushing out of their homes, terrified by what could possibly be going on. An inferno consumed them, potently magical frost beginning to mingle with the fire, both elements snuffing out dozens of innocent people almost instantaneously.

The words of power gushed forth from S'shani, one after another, and he couldn't stop. His vision turned white, but still he heard himself screaming. Finally he stopped, simply because his voice had run itself mute.

The town was in ruins. Barely recognizable corpses littered the scarred wasteland. Men, women and children, huddled together, dying without knowing what was going on.

"We kept it relatively covered up, explained it as a goblin invasion," Decimius said softly. "We tracked S'shani west, to Hammerfell, but lost him soon after." He turned to look at Ned and Brelyna, both clearly shocked, though for quite different reasons. "Don't you understand?" he continued more forcefully. "We were trying to do something good! To create safeguards against the dragons, because we knew, some day, they'd be back! And our ace in the hole, S'shani, has proven himself willing to stop at nothing to escape the responsibility that flows through his veins."

Ned stumbled slightly, and had to grab the wall to steady himself. He had trusted S'shani. This couldn't be right.

"He's willing to go to great lengths to sabotage us, to manipulate you, and to kill any innocents who stand in his way," Decimius continued.

Suddenly Ned jolted upright, his eyes widening with realization.

"J'zargo!" he gasped.

Without waiting for a reaction, he bolted back down the steps. He ran away from the oculory, though could hear Brelyna and Decimius following after him. He ran as fast as he could, ran without thinking, ran fueled by pure fear and passion alone. He jolted past the three Synod researchers, one of which had a small mechanical bronze spider pinching his cheek as the other two tried to pry it off of him. He ran towards where S'shani had last been heading.

How could S'shani have continued lying to him? Had he really been manipulating him this whole time? He cracked his knuckles as he saw the tunnel lead into another chamber ahead. That damn Dragonborn would have some serious explaining to do...

Ned ground to a halt inside the next room. Brelyna and Decimius rushed in behind him.

S'shani was not in the room.

In front of them was a steadily expanding pool of blood, and in the middle of it, J'zargo.


	5. The Battle of Winterhold

(( Here is the final chapter. Thanks once more for all the comments - everything is greatly appreciated. I hope you enjoyed the story! ))

Part V: The Battle of Winterhold

Fire flowed through his veins, lighting his muscles and filling his lungs with smoke. He was amazed he was even still conscious, let alone moving at such a rapid pace; or at least he would've been amazed, had he stopped to think at all. The world around him was a blur. He was vaguely aware of the body in his arms, still alive but bleeding out fast from what appeared to be a vicious yet clean stab wound to the chest. He recalled hearing a garbled sound that his brain told him was Decimius, telling him to bring J'zargo to Plinius, who would be able to stabilize him. He shoved his way past Synod researchers who were gathering to see what all the commotion was about.

Ned yelled something unintelligible as he made it back to the beginning of the Mzulft ruins, hoping to attract Plinius' attention. Sure enough, the aging Imperial came bustling out of his alcove, saw the swiftly approaching Bosmer covered in blood and hefting a dying Khajiit, and ran back in. He swung an arm across his workbench, sending half a dozen massive bronze devices clattering onto the floor, and indicated for Ned to lay J'zargo flat upon the surface.

Plinius grabbed some linen cloth, which he miraculously had close at hand, and began to staunch the blood flow seeping out of J'zargo's chest. Ned stood there watching him, drenched and sticky with blood, his brain still not entirely caught up with everything that had happened.

"What happened to him?" Plinius asked, alternating between casting restoration spells with one hand and applying pressure to the wound with the other.

"I 'uhno," Ned mumbled. He shook his head, the world starting to come back into focus for him. What HAD happened?

S'shani and Ned had split up. Ned had gone after Decimius, whom S'shani had been convinced was a monstrous individual capable of nothing but pure evil. Instead, he had spun a tale about S'shani being the unstable and dangerous one, claiming the Khajiit had been responsible for the deaths of dozens of innocents. And then, at that moment, S'shani had seemingly disappeared from the ruins without a trace, leaving behind the potentially mortally wounded J'zargo.

Could S'shani really have done this? Ned had experienced a strange distrust of the Khajiit since they had first met, but had finally begun to feel a genuine connection of friendship and honesty. The Synod, on the other hand, could have set him up somehow. Couldn't they have?

"Is he," Ned began, before his voice cut out. He cleared his throat, and tried again. "Is he going to live?"

"Hard to say," Plinius said. His hands were now flecked with blood as well, but J'zargo no longer appeared to be bleeding out. "He's not going to die in the next few minutes, but he'll need to see a more advanced healer than I, and quickly. Otherwise he may still lapse into a coma, and die of malnutrition."

"I'll take him back to the College," Ned said, making to pick up J'zargo once more. Plinius shook his head.

"That's awfully far away," he responded. "It may actually be faster to head south with us, we've got more Synod working outside The Rift..."

"No," Ned yelped, a little quicker and louder than he had intended. He hastily added, "I'll go fast. I'll get him there in time."

Plinius gave him a strange look, but nodded. "Okay. Then go!"

Ned grabbed J'zargo under the neck and knees, bundling him up to rush him outside, where the horses Brelyna and J'zargo had rode in on were grazing. He took a moment to secure J'zargo to the saddle of one, then hopped on in front of him. He worried for a moment that the rapid galloping across the rugged terrain of Eastmarch and Winterhold Hold (still a dumb name) would be too much for J'zargo in his weakened state. Perhaps he ought to trust the Synod and take him to their camp.

No - S'shani may not have been entirely honest with him, but Decimius certainly hadn't been either. He was going back to the College, where at the very least, J'zargo would be safe from any further attempts on his life. He spurred the horse forward, and let the ruins sink into the distance behind him.

Thankfully, he was able to recall the general direction to get back to a main road, and followed it to the trade highway outside of Windhelm, and from there circled around to the east, into the particularly frozen north. It was snowing - it always seemed to be snowing here - and Ned fervently spurred the horse on to pick up its pace, worried about the frigid climate offing J'zargo while his body was so weak.

It was funny, really, being so concerned about J'zargo. The Khajiit had always held a fierce sense of competition with his fellow mages, but seemed to have taken a particular shine to playfully tormenting Ned. And, to be fair, J'zargo had good reason to be cocky; he had always been an incredibly bold and successful magic-user, enthralled with crafting new abilities for himself to show off with. He possessed a spark for the art that Ned had always found lacking in himself.

Now, he was reduced to the healthiness of an infant, and Ned was terrified he would get him killed. He just wanted, more than anything, for J'zargo to be okay.

Though it was still dark out, morning a few more hours away, Ned could see the towers of the College on the horizon. He had been expecting an overwhelming feeling of relief when he finally reached it, but instead, as he laid eyes on it, he felt incredibly nervous. Something was wrong.

The air was crackling with a strange energy, even this far away, and an ethereal glow was emanating around the College. As he rode closer, slowing the horse down to enter the town, he noticed crowds of people milling about in the streets, staring nervously at the College.

A massive sphere of energy was swirling around the college, pulsating like a beating heart, and making a high-pitched noise as if powerful gusts of wind were blowing through it. Ned noticed that many members of the College were gathered at the base of the bridge, staring up at the energy field, which cut across the center of the only pathway onto the campus.

"What's going on?" Ned called out, as he rode his horse over to the group and dismounted, his urgent need to get J'zargo aid momentarily forgotten.

Savos Aren, who had been in deep discussion with one of the professors, spun around upon hearing Ned's voice, and stormed towards him.

"You! You have some explaining to do, Nedhelfin!" he snapped, jabbing a finger into Ned's chest.

Ned recoiled, holding up his hands innocently. "I didn't do anything! I just got here!" he yelped.

"You left with S'shani earlier today," Aren loudly stated, as if presenting evidence before a trial. "You claimed to be heading to the Ruins of Mzulft, where the Synod have been located, despite my orders that Brelyna Maryon and J'zargo were to go alone. Then, S'shani comes back, and-"

"S'shani is here?" Ned quickly asked, but was cut off by someone finally noticing J'zargo, and screaming.

"J'zargo's unconcious!" the student, Onmund, cried out. "He's all pale, like he's been badly wounded!"

"Oh, right," Ned said. "J'zargo needs healing, fast."

"Let me see him," came the voice of Colette Marence, the College professor for the school of Restoration. She rushed over, unhooked J'zargo, and laid him down at the foot of the bridge, swiftly administering highly advanced healing spells. Ned let out a sigh of relief.

"And how, exactly, did J'zargo come to be grievously wounded?" Aren asked, still looking accusatorily at Ned.

"Okay, I can explain that," Ned said, then paused. "Wait. Actually I can't. But I need to speak to S'shani!"

"You can't!" Aren screamed.

"Why not?" Ned screamed back, not entirely sure why they were screaming.

"Because he's in there!" the arch-mage yelled, pointing towards the College. Ned stared at the pulsating wall of energy that was clearly barring entry in or out of the campus grounds.

"Wait," he said, realization slowly dawning. "You mean he..?"

"He's doing something to the Eye of Magnus," Aren said with a nod. "He found a way to activate it. There's too much power here! It could rip the entire town of Winterhold to shreds! We've been trying to figure out a way to get in there, but none of our magic is even making a dent." The arch-mage turned back to the sphere, which seemed to be steadily expanding, the whooshing noise growing louder. Ned gulped, but had a sinking feeling he knew what to do.

"I'm going in," he said, trying to sound as bold as he could, and took a few steps towards the bridge.

"You're welcome to try," Aren said with a shrug.

"No, YOU'RE out of line!" Ned snapped, twirling around to face the arch-mage, who gave him a blank stare. "Er, sorry. I really thought you were going to tell me I was out of line."

Feeling a bit foolish, he turned back towards the bridge, and walked up the stone steps. He was aware that many of the congregated mages were watching him, probably expecting him to have some amazing spell or clever trick up his sleeve.

He stepped as close to the magical barrier as he could, staring straight through it to where the front doors to the Hall of the Elements had been blown off their hinges. He couldn't see much further beyond that, but he cleared his throat and called out as loudly as he could.

"S'shani. It's Nedhelfin. Let me in."

His hood had long since fallen down behind his head, and his greasy hair was blowing as if caught in a powerful gale. He waited a moment, tense yet oddly confident. Suddenly, there was a break in the storm; the magical barrier lowered. Ned recognized his cue, and stepped through it. Immediately it closed back up behind him.

Things were strangely calm in here. He walked the rest of the way down the stone bridge as if in a dream. No sounds came through from the outside, and the air was perfectly still, the wind caught in a cyclone around the outer edges of the energy wall. As he reached the courtyard, he noticed much of the stonework appeared cracked and weakened, likely caused when the energy had passed through it on its steady expansion outwards.

He passed through the open archway to the Hall of the Elements, the stone doors collapsed into the snow in front of it. As he entered the building, he could hear a high-pitched, almost angelic hum permeating from the main chamber. There was also a very bright blue glow, forcing him to bring an arm up to shield his eyes as he made his way inwards.

The Eye of Magnus floated in its usual position in the center of the chamber, emanating both the hum and the glow, which intensified as he stepped closer to it. He could make out a figure standing nearby, arms outstretched towards the Eye, connected with it by a thin beam of energy.

"S'shani," Ned said, trying to keep his voice level.

"Nedhelfin," S'shani said, keeping his gaze focused on the Eye. "I am glad you have come."

"You need to stop this," Ned said, his hands shaking, but his voice struggling to stay firm. "You're going to destroy the entire College."

"I do not wish to do such a thing," S'shani said, his voice soft and sorrowful. "It is not my desire to destroy this town-"

"Like you destroyed that town when you were a kid?" Ned asked, his voice spiking with anger. S'shani did not respond, so he pushed on. "Decimius told us. Dozens of innocent men, women...even children, S'shani. You let them die, just to get away from the Synod?"

There was another heavy moment of silence, then S'shani replied, "it was a mistake."

"A mistake? Killing dozens of people is a bit more than a 'mistake'!" Ned yelled, taking a few steps closer towards the Khajiit. "You had me so convinced you were the sympathetic figure here. You shook my hand, you looked me in the eye, and you said 'no more lies!'"

"I am sorry I did not-"

"Sorry? You're SORRY?" Now Ned was furious, feeling all of the suspicion, uncertainty and distrust he had felt towards S'shani coalesce into blind, seething hatred. "How am I supposed to trust a single thing you say or do? Maybe the Synod are right! Maybe you are just a dangerous freak, who needs to be stopped!"

"I would not argue that point," S'shani sighed. "I have spent a long time wandering the world in deep contemplation, seeking penance for what I have done."

"Bullshit," Ned snapped. "You're running away. You could've been something. You're the Dragonborn, damnit! A prophesized hero! But you didn't do anything with it. You just ran, and hid, and lied! You're pathetic!"

S'shani kept his head down. Ned knew he had struck a nerve, and this only spurred him further.

"And the worst thing about all this? That's what I do! Me! I'm the most pathetic person I've ever met, while you're this badass, martial artist, dragon-blooded healer, and you're trying to be like me! Why on earth would you do that? You need to do better! The world NEEDS you to do better!"

"I'm trying," S'shani grumbled through gritted teeth. "You have to believe me, I am."

"I can't believe you," Ned said, shaking his head. "Not ever again. Now turn off the Eye."

"I cannot!" S'shani shouted. "Something grave is about to happen. The Synod-"

"Have Tamriel's best interest at heart!" Ned cut him off, a frost spell beginning to form in his hand. "You only care about yourself. Now turn off the Eye."

"Listen to me very carefully, Nedhelfin," S'shani said, desperation creeping into his voice. "The Synod do not have anyone's best interest at heart but their own. They are going to-"

"TURN. OFF. THE EYE." Ned knew what S'shani's reaction would be, and he knew what was inevitably to come.

"I'm sorry," S'shani whispered, "but no."

Ned threw the frostbolt as hard as he could, beaming S'shani in the shoulder. He grunted and stumbled to the side - not particularly wounded, but the lapse in concentration was all that was necessary for the Eye to dim, and the energy sphere it emanated to begin fading.

S'shani hopped to his feet. "Ned, you must not interfere," he said. "I must stop the Synod, and though it pains me to say it, I will do so even if I must go through you."

Ned summoned frost spells into both of his hands, causing them to glow a deep blue. He glared at S'shani, and said, "ice to meet you."

S'shani paused, quirking an eyebrow. "We've known each other for days."

"Yeah, but ice puns are kinda my thing and there are only so many I can ever think of," Ned said with a shrug. "Let's dance."

He shot a blast of frozen air towards the Khajiit, who nimbly dodged out of the way, circumventing the area of the spell and charging in towards Ned. Ned realized that a few good punches from S'shani would cause him to go down for the count, so he needed to keep his distance. He focused on the floor between them, and cast a spell on the stone tiles. A small purple rune, crudely drawn, began to glow; it caused a jolt of lightning to shoot out and zap S'shani as he stepped on it. It was weak, but gave Ned enough time to close the distance again and prepare another frost spell.

S'shani proved much more nimble in an open arena than he had been in the narrow tunnels of the Midden, and moved back and forth like a blur, causing Ned to panic and miss with his more powerful spells, which careened into the floor and walls, shattering uselessly. S'shani closed in and delivered a sharp punch to Ned's gut, causing him to bend over, but as he did so he fired a jolt of electricity out of his right hand, pushing S'shani backwards as he struggled to regain his composure.

Outside, the mages were collectively astonished that Nedhelfin, the student known for eating the most food and performing the least magic of anyone on the campus, had somehow managed to successfully lower the Eye's defensive field. Savos Aren was about to lead the collective charge back onto the campus, when he heard a call from behind him.

"Why hello, Savos!" the voice said. Aren spun around, and saw at least a dozen figures approaching on horseback, all of them clad in the gold and black robes of the Synod except for one: Brelyna Maryon. The figure in front, Decimius, offered a jovial smile and wave. "Having a bit of trouble, are we?"

Aren made his way back down the steps as Decimius dismounted his horse. The arch-mage was quite a bit taller than the Imperial, but Decimius kept a cocky grin plastered across his face, as the Dunmer looked nervous and uncertain.

"What are you and your men doing here, Decimius?" Aren asked, several of his fellow mages gathering around him to face what appeared to be an invading army of Synod.

"Just heard there were some difficulties up here, wanted to make sure everything was okay, and extend an olive branch of good will," Decimius replied. "I know we've never gotten along that great, but I'd like to think that, as fellow students of the magical arts, we can at least appreciate one another."

"Really? You've suddenly learned to appreciate the right of others to study and practice magic in the ways they see fit?" Aren responded, bringing up his full height to tower over Decimius. "That strikes me as a rather dramatic change in policy for the Synod."

Decimius' patronizing smile quickly turned into a scowl as he realized the act wasn't going to work here.

"Sir," Brelyna chimed in, walking over to them. "I'm sorry for interrupting, but did Ned arrive safely with J'zargo?"

"He's over here," Marence called out from the steps. "And it looks like he's starting to gain consciousness. That's not great. He's going to be in a lot of pain."

Brelyna and several others rushed over to his side, ignoring the healer's orders to stay back and give him space.

J'zargo's eyes fluttered open, meeting Brelyna's.

"Thank goodness you're okay," Brelyna whispered. "What happened?"

J'zargo looked as if he was summoning all his strength to speak, and gurgled out the words, "do not trust the Synod," before blacking out again.

As one, the mages of the College turned to face the Synod. Savos Aren furrowed his brow at Decimius, crossing his arms across his chest as if awaiting an explanation.

"Bah," Decimius said, waving a hand in the air. "Fine, Aren, I'll come out and say it: I'm willing to accept a surrender right now, and I suggest you and your people take it."

"A surrender?" Aren gawked, his eyes widening in disbelief. "What, are you planning on taking over the College?"

"No," Decimius said, slowly raising his right hand. "I plan to demolish it."

He lowered the hand, and as one, the platoon of mages behind him began to channel spells, summoning atronochs and sending gouts of fire, frost and lightning towards the assembled professors and students of the College.

Aren extended his arms out to his sides, and a wall of light sprung up in front of him, shielding the group from harm. He turned back to those assembled.

"This isn't going to hold for long!" he said. "I will not hold it against any who feel it is in their best interest to flee, but those who respect the study of magic enough to fight and perhaps die for it, be ready!"

He lowered the shield, unleashing a firestorm into the crowd of Synod, flinging a few aside. More spells erupted from behind him, as magical energies volleyed back and forth between the opposing forces

Inside the Campus, Ned and S'shani continued dancing around each other, locked in their personal duel. Ned could feel the energy draining from him, however; he wouldn't be able to keep up such rapid spell-casting much longer. Not only was S'shani fiendishly agile, but he appeared to be built like a tank, absorbing several direct blows with minimal apparent difficulty. Ned knew, given enough time, the Khajiit would wear him down and win the fight. He just had to hold out long enough for reinforcements to back him up.

Speaking of, where were those reinforcements? The field generated by the Eye of Magnus had gone down some time ago - why had no one charged inside to see what was going on?

He had just hit S'shani in the jaw with a shock spell, and the Khajiit was now panting heavily, taking a moment to regain his composure. Rather than press the advantage, Ned fell back a bit, straining his ears. It sounded like magic was being cast outside, alongside the occasional angry yell or scream of pain. What was going on?

He locked eyes with S'shani, who also seemed to have noticed something strange was going on. The two hobbled towards the doorway, their feud temporarily forgotten. Ned watched the battle unfolding with increasing confusion.

"The Synod," he said slowly, turning towards S'shani. "They're attacking us. I thought..."

"This is what I sought to warn you about," S'shani said, clutching his chest. "They do not seek to end the dragon threat, they seek to control it, so that they can wipe out all other magic use they do not sanction."

Ned tried to wrap his brain around this, but came up short. "Control it? What do you mean, 'control' the dragon threat?"

Outside, the mages had largely paired off, each one trying to overwhelm an opponent they had gauged as an equal. Urag gro-Shub had broken away from the group and was locked in a magical struggle with Plinius, the old men each displaying a startling amount of ferocity despite their age. The orsimer librarian lobbed ancient, obscure spells at his opponent, harassing him with jolts of pure energy and conjured animals, forcing the Synod researcher to rely on defensive spells and restoration to stay in the fight.

Casualties were beginning to mount on both sides. Several Synod had gone up in flames in the initial attack, but they had since redoubled their efforts; the student, Onmund, collapsed into the snow, felled by an overwhelming jolt of lightning from an older and more experienced Synod. Nirya, an older Altmer woman had been caught off guard by a powerful knock-back spell, and slammed her head against the stone steps, killing her instantly. Even one of the professors, Phinis Gestor, was torn apart as he attempted to break the Synod ranks with a storm atronoch at his side.

In the very center of the conflict, Savos Aren had squared off with Decimius, each assaulting each other with such powerful destruction spells that the ground was beginning to crack and burn around them. Both were putting their all into the confrontation, but neither seemed able to gain the upper hand.

Colette Marence ducked and weaved in and out of the battlefield, seeking any of her fellows in need of healing, applying restoration spells to them quickly, to help them get back into the fight. Brelyna had been left to watch nervously over the body of J'zargo, but when a fireball came hurtling towards them, she hurriedly picked up his body and ran for cover.

The citizens of Winterhold were in a panic; even the town guard knew not to get involved when so much destructive magic was being thrown around. Brelyna ran towards them, hoping her retreating form wouldn't make an ideal target, and gently lowered J'zargo onto the porch of the town's inn.

"Damn mages!" one of the guards yelled. "What is the meaning of this? You fools are going to destroy the town!"

"Shut up!" Brelyna snapped, turning back to J'zargo and applying some of her own healing magic to him. He was easily the best student when it came to destruction spells; if she could just get him stable enough...

J'zargo's eyes fluttered open once more. He let out a few violent coughs, as Brelyna held his head up and tried to sooth him.

"J'zargo!" she whispered, her voice permeating with urgency. "The Synod are attacking. You have to tell me - what happened in Mzulft? What are they up to?"

"Dragons," J'zargo said, spittle falling from the side of his mouth. "They're not planning to stop the dragons from coming back, they're planning to resurrect them. The woman I was speaking with, Bienne, she seemed to think J'zargo was cute - who could blame her, really -" J'zargo stopped for another coughing fit, and Brelyna made a hand motion urging him to ease up on the self-flattery and get on with the story. "Sorry. She said they've already found several. They're planning on bringing one here. They're going to demolish the College, kill anyone who will not submit to them."

"A dragon?" Brelyna gasped. "They're bringing a dragon? Here!"

J'zargo's response was drowned out by a deafening roar that shook the foundation of the building they were on. There was a renewed outburst of panicked screams from the citizens of Winterhold, people yelling out cries to the gods and urging each other to run for safety. Brelyna stood up, ran down the steps of the inn, and looked up at the winged beast of destruction heading straight for the College.

"A dragon!" Aren shouted, still refusing to let this shock throw off his concentration. "You're insane!"

"It's just the next level of magical control," Decimius snarled back. "It is not our fault you are too weak and timid to embrace it!"

Ned and S'shani ran out into the courtyard as the dragon made its first pass overhead, shouting out a gust of flames that collided into the upper parapets, sending chunks of stone raining down onto the two of them. S'shani grasped Ned by the arm, pulling him close so as to be heard over the overwhelming din.

"Nedhelfin! You must activate the Eye of Magnus! It is our only hope to defeat this beast!" he shouted, the words sounding as if they were a very long way away. Ned gulped, but nodded.

"What are you going to do?" he screamed back, but he feared he had the answer.

S'shani held up his hands, revealing his sharp claws, and offered a pretty good attempt at a confident grin. "You were right, Nedhelfin. I spent too much time running, and hiding, and lying. It is time to embrace the truth, step into the light, and charge."

The dragon finished its swoop around the College towers, and began to head back towards the town, where dozens of civilians stood in panicked masses, a massacre waiting to happen.

S'shani ran to the edge of the courtyard, took a deep breath, and shouted. "JOOR ZAH FRUL!"

The power of his voice rippled through the air towards the dragon. It didn't seem to do any physical damage to it, but the beast spun around in mid-air, turning back towards S'shani, eyes glowing with bloodlust. It dove downwards as the Dragonborn dove out of the way, and landed heavily into the center of the courtyard, it's mighty tail smashing into the side of the Hall of Countenance, breaking through the stone and causing the entire building to slide sideways, collapsing over the edge of the cliff.

S'shani wasted no time, and lunged towards the dragon, grabbing hold of its wing and slicing into it with his claws. The dragon roared in pain and fury, and attempted to bat S'shani away with repeated flapping of its wings, but the Dragonborn held tight, raising into the air with the wing. He lashed his hand forward to make another slash into the sinew, and pulled himself towards it. In this manner, he began to scale the dragon, until finally he was on its back, clutching onto the thick, ancient scales for purchase.

Ned, who found this whole thing to be a bit too hardcore for him, ran as fast as he could back into the Hall of the Elements. He ran up to the Eye of Magnus, then realized one crucial flaw in the plan: how in Oblivion was he supposed to 'activate' this thing? For all he knew, it took super crazy Dragonborn powers, or at the very least, super crazy competent mage powers. Either way: totally out of his league.

The dragon let out another flame shout, melting all the snow in the courtyard and setting the brittle grass underneath on fire. It lifted up off the ground, S'shani still clinging to its back, slowly clawing his way up to the head. The dragon spun around the campus, furiously trying to shake its unwanted passenger loose to no avail.

"You can't hope to keep that thing controlled forever!" Aren shouted, holding up a magical shield as Decimius barraged him with an onslaught of powerful spells. "It's too unpredictable! It could cause catastrophic amounts of unintended damage!"

"You are too narrow minded, Aren!" Decimius yelled back, slowly stepping forward as he continued to fling fire and lightning at the battered arch-mage. "You think only in what you cannot do. It is why you allow such a miserable crop of nobodies into your midst! You just want to be left alone, giving no regard to the grandeur of what magic can accomplish!" Step by step, Decimius closed the distance. "Magic is not some bottle of wine, to be kept in a basement for decades, only occasionally dusted off and sipped at. It is to be imbibed, to let it flow through you, and used to do things you would never previously have dreamed to do!"

The two were now nose to nose, and Aren knew he had lost the upper hand. In his final moment, he looked at Decimius, not with anger or hatred, but with sorrow.

"You do magic a disservice," he said, "and I would rather die than live in a world where it is treated with such flippant abuse."

"Request granted," Decimius said, his face a mixture of mad delight and seething bloodlust. He held up his hand, a conjured sword appearing in it, and brought it downwards, severing the arch-mage's neck. His lifeless body collapsed to the ground.

Mirabelle Ervine, the arch-mage's second, screamed in horror as she saw this, losing her concentration; the mage she had been fighting over-powered her, and she too collapsed into the snow, her lifeless eyes gazing upwards at the slowly rising sun.

The surviving members of the College were beginning to lose hope. Urag gro-Shub finally managed to secure a victory, knocking Plinius down for the count, and pumped his arms into the air.

"Better death than servitude!" he screamed. "Fight on, brothers and sisters!"

He made a bee-line for Decimius, but was caught off; Brelyna Maryon charged into the fray first, raised her hands in the air, and with an ear-splitting scream cause an inferno to erupt around Decimius. He had been totally unprepared for such an attack, and screamed in agony as an endless torrent of flames spouted up around him, completely engulfing him. He felt his skin sizzling as the air was forced out of his lungs by acrid smoke; he flailed forwards, and collapsed onto the ground, wheezing in agony.

Brelyna stood over him, looking down at him with pity in her eyes. "Call off your men!" she shouted so all could hear her. "Surrender, and help us defeat the dragon before it turns on you!"

Decimius coughed violently, and pointed a hand at Brelyna. He gurgled out one word: "burn."

A sharp beam of heat shot out from his extended index finger, as he expended the last of his energy casting one final spell of revenge; his head lolled lifelessly on the ground as soon as it left his body.

Brelyna stared down certain death, her brain too numbed with shock to bring up a shield in time, when suddenly a blur ran in front of her, holding up a shield of his own. J'zargo took the full brunt of the spell and collapsed backwards on top of her.

"J'zargo!" she gasped, grasping the once more weakened Khajiit. At first he was completely limp in her arms, and she worried he had truly given his life this time. Then he peeked open one eye, and gave his usual sly grin.

"J'zargo expects many medals after this is over," he said, and slumped back onto the ground, unconscious.

Overhead, S'shani crawled up the neck of the dragon, which was shouting out blasts of fire at the town in rage. The stables exploded as a fiery swathe was cut right through it. Debris showered the town as people continued to make a run for the roads leading away from the town.

S'shani reached the top of the dragon's head, and slashed down with one free claw, slicing into the dragon's exposed eye. It roared in pain and began to wobble back and forth in the air, quickly losing momentum from the pain and confusion. He swiped several more times, then switched hands and attacked the other eye, fully blinding the beast. It continued to fly straight, which happened to be heading directly into the central tower of the College.

Ned stared up at the Eye.

"Open sesame?" he said. "Abra kadabra? Speak, friend, and enter?" He frowned as the Eye continued to float there, dull and lifeless. Maybe S'shani has used up all its energy?

Ned scowled, and held up his arm, palm open towards the Eye. He felt a fierce determination inside him. This had to work! S'shani was riding a dragon like a pony, Brelyna and the rest of his friends were in the middle of an actual war...he wasn't going to let everything be in vain because he couldn't activate a stupid sphere.

It had to work.

Suddenly, a jolt of energy shot out from the Eye and hit him in the palm. He blinked a few times, uncertain what had even just happened. Then, all at once, a stream of energy flew from the Eye, into him, then back into the Eye. He lifted his other arm, and felt the stream intensify. It was euphoric; so this is what real magical power felt like! The field of energy began to emanate once more from the Eye, slowly enveloping him as it expanded across the room, soon moving beyond the stone walls and once more surrounding the entirety of the campus. He didn't know how, exactly, he was doing it, only that it felt really, really awesome.

The Eye leapt back to life just in the nick of time; S'shani grasped the dragon's head and pulled up on it, causing a sharp turn against the field of energy; the belly of the beast scraped against the magical wall, charring away the soft flesh and causing sparks to fly up, like a sword hitting a grind-stone. The dragon screamed in renewed agony as it attempted to fly through the field, being met with nothing but blasts of pain shooting across its body.

The dragon began to dip precariously, beaten into a state of submission. S'shani stood up, holding out his arms for balance, and waited until he was appropriately close to the courtyard, and leapt through the air. He let forth a dragonshout that caused his very essence to become ethereal, and slipped through the Eye of Magnus' force field as the dragon flew straight into the cliff wall, dislodging an avalanche of stone that slid down with it to the ocean below, where it was buried once more.

The surviving members of the College of Winterhold let out a group cheer. Professors and students embraced warmly, and even gro-Shub couldn't help but let a victorious grin spread across his face. Many had died that day, people he considered close friends and brilliant colleagues, but he was an Orc, and as such knew what it meant to die a good death. That day they had fought for a cause worth dying for, and they had won.

The remaining few Synod were rounded up and bound. Gro-shub announced to those assembled that they would be brought to Windhelm and put on trial; the world had a right to know of the acts they had committed. It would not help the people of Skyrim's trust of magic users, but it would hopefully raise awareness against this kind of plot in the future.

Brelyna and Marence each grabbed an arm of J'zargo to string around their shoulders, and carried him back to the steps, where they propped him upright. Marence began applying a new round of healing to him, until gradually he woke up once more. He looked around a few times, and smiled.

"It would appear we were victorious," he said, sounding sleepy.

"Yes," Brelyna said. "You were great. We owe you a lot."

"Does that mean J'zargo can nap now without some pesky healer waking him up?" he asked, but he chuckled light-heartedly.

"Soon, but we really need to figure out all of what happened," Brelyna said. "You said that one of the Synod - a lady who found you just irresistibly handsome -" she figured the Khajiit deserved it. "She told you about the plot to bring the dragons back, and the attempt to control them. But then what happened? How did you end up stabbed?"

J'zargo squinted his eyes, as if straining his memory. "J'zargo saw S'shani, and he was surprised to see fellow Khajiit there in the ruins. J'zargo quickly explained what he had learned, that a dragon was being sent to Winterhold to destroy it. S'shani said he knew what to do, and that he would run off to handle it, and asked J'zargo to inform you and Nedhelfin what was going on."

"So S'shani came here to help stop the dragon," Brelyna said slowly. "But then...who stabbed you?"

J'zargo lifted a pale, weakened hand, and scratched his brow. "In truth, I am not sure. It looked to be a demon. He wielded two curved swords, and dressed as if he was a pirate. It sounds silly...perhaps I am hallucinating."

Brelyna shook her head. "I wouldn't put it past these Synod to consort with demons. Did it say anything?"

"No. It simply rushed up to me as soon as I was alone, I saw it thrust one of the swords towards me, and...that is all I recall."

"Hrm." Brelyna shared a glance with Marence, who looked as perplexed as she did. "I didn't see any such demon in the battle, did you?"

"Nope," Marence replied. "Demons are fickle things. Who knows where it could've decided to go?"

Ned ran out into the courtyard after he heard S'shani collapse back into the burnt, rubble-strewn ground. For some reason, the field generated by the Eye of Magnus continued to float protectively around the campus, despite the fact that he was no longer actively focused on it. It was as if some part of him had merged with the artifact, keeping it going for a while longer.

He intended to rush towards the prone Dragonborn, but there was a sudden fluctuation in the air, and Velehk Sain was standing over him, swords drawn, a derisive sneer running across his face.

"Very impressive," he said, his thunderously deep voice once more sending shivers down Ned's spine. "I don't know if I've ever seen such feats from a mortal. You deserve accolades."

He raised a booted foot and stomped on S'shani's neck, causing the Khajiit to yelp in pain and grasp at the boot with his hands, trying futilely to pry it off. "Of course, what you'll get is a painful death - but the world is hardly fair, now is it."

Ned ran forward, mustering a frost spell to throw at Sain. It disintegrated harmlessly as it hit his shoulder; the pirate king hardly seemed to notice. His eyes flickered towards Ned, and he raised a finger to the Bosmer. "Sit down, you," he said, and suddenly Ned felt his legs turn to gelatin, and he collapsed helplessly to the ground.

Sain raised his foot, and S'shani rolled to the side, coughing and spluttering. Sain began to move in circles around the Dragonborn, gently moving his swords through the air, as if they were pieces of driftwood riding the waves of the ocean.

"That Synod blow-hard did make me a very intriguing offer," he said, eying S'shani up and down as he continued to struggle for air. "Kill you, and work for them as a fearsome dragon rider, spreading terror and domination in their name. I enjoy every part of that idea, except for the bit where I bend my knee to mortals. Velehk Sain bows to no man.

"Still, the ability to control dragon's sounded like a new and fascinating way to pillage and maim, and if all I needed to do for that to be a reality was slay some pesky Khajiit called the 'Dragonborn,' then so be it. I tracked a Khajiit from this College, down to the ruins of Mzulft...but apparently, I impaled the wrong one." Sain let out a chuckle. "Amateur mistake. One I shall not repeat."

S'shani was finally beginning to stand once more. He rolled his shoulders, eyeing up Sain, mentally listing his options. Sain cackled, obviously enjoying the prospect.

"The Synod are dead. This College is mostly destroyed. All that stands in my way is you, Dragonborn. Then I shall use their secrets to burn a path straight across the heart of the world. How does it feel, knowing that your failure will cause pain and horror for so many?"

S'shani watched Sain very carefully for a moment, then took a deep breath. "ZUN HAAL VIIK!"

Sain was bracing for an attack, but while his body was hardly affected by the shout, the weapons in his hands appeared to be overtaken by lives of their own; they flew from his hands, skittering across the courtyard. One flew into a far corner, while the other slid to a halt by the comatose Ned.

"A-heh," Sain chuckled. "So, you want to make this a 'fair' fight? Reasonable enough, I suppose." He began to crack his knuckles, each one causing a thunderous boom. S'shani said nothing; simply held his ground, staring the demon head on.

Velehk Sain charged, and S'shani charged back. They met in a thunderous clash of violence, each exchanging a flurry of blows so rapid Ned could hardly comprehend what was going on.

Sain flung a right roundhouse at S'shani, which was blocked and countered by a straight punch to the chest. Sain absorbed the blow and shoved the arm away, tipping S'shani off-balance and landing a punch to his ribs. Each fighter had a punch as powerful as a battering ram, but bodies as sturdy as a reinforced wall. S'shani sent a quick wave of healing over himself and dove back into the fray, deftly parrying several incoming attacks and waiting for an opening to strike the pirate king down.

Ned began to wiggle on the ground, slowly realizing the life was returning to his body. He decided not to leap up too quickly; right now, Sain and S'shani were locked in such intense combat, any spell he cast would be just as likely to hit the Dragonborn. He could use this to his advantage, letting Sain think he was still paralyzed until the moment was right.

S'shani threw a punch that Sain grasped in his fist, slowly squeezing his hand as he bent the Dragonborn's wrist backwards. S'shani grunted in pain, but took a deep breath and shouted at Sain, causing him to slide backwards, collapsing onto the ground. Sain was quick to leap back to his feet, though he was beginning to look disheveled.

"And here I thought we were playing FAIR," he shouted, as he extended his own palm, hitting S'shani with a wave of force that flung him backwards into a stone pillar. He crashed into it with such force that it began to crack beneath him. Ned was relieved to see S'shani would not go down so easily either, as they once more charged into each other, renewing the flurried exchange of attacks.

Ned stretched his arm out and grabbed the sword that had landed nearby. There was no chance Sain was going to continue 'playing fair' - they needed to get the upper hand before he did. Sain and S'shani were slowly circling around each other, and Ned waited until the pirate king had his back turned to him - then he stood up and ran towards them, sword raised over his head.

He moved as silently as he could, Sain still facing away from him, and waited until he was close enough to bring the sword down on the demon's head-

When in a fluid motion, Sain brought his elbow back, crushed it into Ned's ribcage, grabbed the sword from his limp hands, muttered a cynical, "thanks," and swung it forward, impaling S'shani in the chest.

Ned watched, horrified, as S'shani's eyes widened in shock and pain, Sain driving the sword all the way through his body. In as swift a motion, the sword was pulled out, and S'shani stumbled for a moment before collapsing to his knees.

"Take heart, mortal," Velehk Sain said, standing over him. "I have lived for a very long time, and been undead a bit longer than that, and that was the best fight I've ever had. You deserve peace. You shall not live to see the new world I will create."

Ned cradled his cracked ribs, and tried to hobble forward. He shouted out in the hopes of distracting Sain, but to no avail. The pirate king raised his sword in the air.

S'shani closed his eyes, and a look of peace came across his face.

The sword came down, and S'shani collapsed backwards into the pool of red behind him, his light snuffed out.

"NO!" Ned screamed, and forsaking years of magical training, threw himself at Sain, attempting to tackle him to the ground. Sain flung him off, cackling.

"Really?" he said. "Really? You just saw easily the most powerful mortal in Skyrim fall before me, and you wish to fight now? What are you going to do, break your bones against me?"

Ned stood back up. His body exploded with pain, but he couldn't stop now. He couldn't just lay down and die, even though all hope was clearly lost.

Sain raised his hand, and hit Ned with a beam of energy that consumed his entire body. He could feel his energy being drained, his very life force getting sapped into his opponent. He took a few feeble steps forward, hobbled, and fell to his knee. He gritted his teeth and looked up at Sain, standing over him, cackling madly.

Ned could think of only one spell to cast.

He forced himself back up, and took one more step towards Sain, putting himself in arms reach. He was beginning to feel incredibly sleepy, but he fought off the urge to give in, and slowly lifted his right arm, index finger extended. He pushed it towards Sain, exerting more willpower than he ever knew he had.

"What is this?" Sain asked. "You wish to lay a hand upon a God, before he puts you down like the dog you are?"

Ned brought down his finger, tapping Velehk Sain on the arm.

He was floating.

No, he was sitting.

Or was he standing?

He slowly walked forward through the fog. He wasn't entirely sure where he was going, since there didn't seem to be anything in any direction. Just thick, rolling fog. He wasn't even sure if there was a floor beneath him or a sky above him. He could probably wander in those directions if he wanted, but for now, he continued going straight.

After a while, he noticed a figure walking beside him. When he realized who it was, he stopped and sat down. S'shani sat down next to him.

"So," Ned said. "We're dead."

"Well," S'shani replied, "you're half right."

"I can't believe it," Ned sighed. "I always knew I'd be a screw-up, but I never thought I'd actually doom the entire world."

"What do you mean?" S'shani asked, watching him with genuine concern.

"This is all my fault!" Ned wailed. "I killed the Dragonborn. You were supposed to save all of Skyrim, and I've gone and gotten you killed. Why are you laughing?"

S'shani grinned, and patted Ned on the shoulder.

"The world does not need a Dragonborn to save it," he said.

"Decimius and Sain both found out how to bring dragons back. What if others do?" Ned asked.

"Then brave people, like you, will rise up to do the right thing," S'shani said. "It is not what flows through your blood that makes you a hero. I had the blood of dragons in me, and I spent my life running and hiding. You - your blood is as ordinary as it could be, but I watched you repeatedly stand up against overwhelming odds and fight, tooth and nail, for what you believed to be right."

They sat in silence for a moment, before Ned said, "for what it's worth, I'm sorry. That you're dead."

S'shani waved this off. "Do not worry about me. You and the rest of the living have a long, arduous road in front of you. There will be times when it feels overwhelmingly difficult, and you will ask yourself, 'why is there not some hero to do this for me?'" S'shani stood up, and offered a hand to help Ned up as well. "It is in those moments that you must remember what a hero actually is."

Ned stood there and watched as S'shani began to walk off into the fog. The Dragonborn turned back to him one last time, and said, "I look forward to seeing you again, Nedhelfin - though hopefully that won't be for quite a while."

Epilogue

It was a surprisingly nice day. It was snowing, but it was always gods-damn snowing in Winterhold. (As part of a new, life-changing initiative, Ned had decided to simply ignore the second 'Hold' forever.)

When Ned had been awakened by the returning mages of the College, there had been nothing in front of him but a pile of ash and a few tattered pieces of old pirate garb. He had to hand it to J'zargo: that mistake of his made a hell of a spell.

As soon as Colette Marence had deemed him fit for travel, he commissioned a carriage from the people of Winterhold and went on a journey. First he went to Windhelm, but after asking around, was sent even further west, to Whiterun Hold. It was there he caught up with the traveling caravan of Khajiit who wandered the nine holds of Skyrim selling their sundry goods. He spoke with the leader of the group, a man named Ri'saad, and explained the situation to him.

The body of a Khajiit was in his carriage. The deceased was the bravest man he had ever known, and he would pay any sum to see to it that he was given a proper Khajiit burial.

Ri'saad smiled, and assured him he would not charge any cost for such a task, and would be honored to see his friend committed properly to the next life.

By the time he had arrived back in Winterhold, Brelyna Maryon and several other mages had made a trek of their own down to Windhelm, both dropping off the Synod prisoners, and requesting official assistance in rebuilding their utterly trashed campus.

A week later, they were set to return. Ned stood in the courtyard admiring the weather, enjoying the feel of snow on his persistently greasy hair, and watching as all present mages began to make their way into the Hall of the Elements. Urag gro-Shub had spread the word that there would be some big announcement in there as soon as the last mages arrived from Windhelm.

Ned watched with a smile as Brelyna and the others arrived, accompanied by a surprisingly large retinue of Windhelm guards and soldiers. At first he was worried this was another invasion force, but Brelyna appeared to be grinning happily.

"Hey," he said, as she approached.

"Hey," she responded. "Look at this! Jarl Stormcloak was amazing! He thanked us all for our service to Skyrim, and insisted that we take all this aid with his blessing."

Ned recalled word he had heard out on the road, about how the civil war between the Stormcloaks and the Imperial Legion was picking up with renewed vigor. He was sure the Jarl was just attempting to curry favors that he could call upon later - but hey, it didn't hurt.

"Well, come on," Ned said. "Gro-Shub wants everyone in the Hall of the Elements for some big announcement."

"Good," Brelyna said "We haven't had a College meeting since this all went down. We need some leadership, to figure out where to go from here. Honestly, though he's a bit gruff, I think gro-Shub will make a good arch-mage."

Ned grimaced a bit at the thought, but by this point they were in the main hall, where dozens of chairs had been assembled in neat rows. Ned and Brelyna sat down next to J'zargo, who still had a heavy bandage cloth wrapping around his midriff, and had been forced to use crutches to get around the past week. The Khajiit gave them a small wave, which they returned, before the Urag gro-Shub stood up behind the front podium and cleared his throat. When an Orc clears his throat, all chit-chat stops.

"This is our first official gathering as a community since the events last week. Already news of what transpired has spread - these things are bound to when there are that many explosions, and a dragon flies over-head. Colloquially, it's being called 'The Battle of Winterhold' - or, even more colloquially, as 'Those Damn Mages Are At It Again.'"

There was a slight chuckle from the audience, before the Orc went on.

"Many died that day. Friends, colleagues, teachers and students. Every death - from the arch-mage down - is deeply felt here at the College, where we are not ranked so much as we are equals, united as one by our love of learning, and of magic. That was the message this College was founded on, and that was the message these men and women fought for and died to protect. We must always respect the magic.

"As it stands, however, we find our numbers depleted, our resources scarce, and our organization lacking in leadership. I have heard many whispers that I plan to take over as arch-mage here, but I am an old man, a bit out of touch with the times, and I think, if that's okay with all of you, that I'd like to stay librarian until you wheel me out in a casket.

"I have talked it over with many of my close friends and colleagues here at the College, and we have agreed to pass leadership on to someone younger. Someone who has proven to have unending drive and devotion, a willingness to do what must be done, and a fierce respect and appreciation for magic."

Ned felt himself blushing, and began to stand up, acceptance speech already preparing in his head.

"Brelyna Maryon."

Ned quickly sat back down and joined in with the applause. Brelyna gasped, blushing furiously, and ran up to the podium.

"You will, of course, have our support and assistance," gro-Shub told her, shaking her hand. "But I think you will lead us well, arch-mage."

Ned felt - what was that? Genuine happiness? Pride? He smiled up at Brelyna. He knew, now, that things were going to be okay.

Brelyna said a few words, stumbling nervously over herself, but the students loved her and the professors supported her. When she was done, she came bolting over to Ned.

"Hey, congratu-" he began, before she embraced him and planted a kiss straight on his mouth.

A moment later, they broke apart, and he said, "-lations, uh, Brelyna."

"J'zargo is going to heave his lunch, he thinks," J'zargo said, making his way over with his crutches.

"Hey, J'zargo," cooed several female voices at once. News of the Khajiit's repeated injuries and acts of heroism had made him incredibly popular with the ladies.

"Ahh, that is my cue," he said with a wink, and hobbled off.

"Hey," Ned said. "I've been grievously injured too, where are my crowds of adoring fans?"

"A-hem," Brelyna said, glaring up at him as she grasped his arm.

"Oh, right," Ned said with a chuckle, ruffling her hair. "So, now what? A civil war is spreading across the entirety of Skyrim, the world continues to hate and distrust magic users, and dragons have come back for the first time in centuries. Looks like you've got your hands full."

"Yeah," Brelyna said. "But I've got good people working with me. I'm confident." She smiled at him. "Do you want to check out the lunch spread with me? I hear they've got a bunch of exotic cheeses."

"Eurgh," Ned muttered. "Why'd it have to be cheese?"


End file.
